Passions: Another Choice, Another Foe
by Hickumu
Summary: We all know the choice Buffy made that night in the warehouse. But, what if she made a different choice? What would the ramifications of that choice be for her and the Scoobies, and how would she cope? Starts in "Passions", goes from there. VERY DARK.
1. Prologue: A Choice

I don't kill characters in my anime stories. But for some reason, I feel free to go all ax-murderer in the Buffyverse!

Anyway, I wrote this largely out of curiousity. I wondered how the rest of the season might have gone if Buffy made a different choice that night in "Passions". This takes place as she's fighting Angel(us). In this story, that one line is where things start changing.

Hope you enjoy. This story has taken days out of my life and I'm just glad I finally have it written.

By the way, please tell me if I need to up the rating. This story gets way dark, and it might even be out of "T" range. Please let me know.

* * *

"Are you going to let your old man just burn?"

Buffy froze, and risked a glance down at the floor below.

The fire was raging out of control…and her Watcher was in the middle of it.

She had a choice to make.

Let Angel run and get Giles out…or kill Angel, and Giles along with him?

Buffy felt herself start to shake. What kind of choice was that?! Her former lover or her Watcher?! How could she make that choice? If Angel ran, others would die. Maybe others she knew and cared about.

But if she waited much longer, Giles would die _now_.

_But…_

This _thing_, this vampire she had pinned to the wall, was not Angel. He was a demon, a demon who had already claimed one victim that night. She remembered how broken Giles had sounded over the phone. Miss Calendar. Dead, just like that. She remembered how petrified Willow had been when she'd come over, how she'd shook as Angel threatened her so _casually_. He'd been willing to sacrifice an entire mall full of people.

_No…sacrifices have a purpose. _

Buffy swallowed, knowing that she was making the hardest choice of her life.

Then, she turned away from the body on the ground, and faced Angel with murder in her eyes.

_Are you going to let your old man just burn?_

"Yes," she said. "I am."

She saw Angel's eyes widen in surprise, and took her chance. She let him go, but only long enough to hit him across the head with her pipe. Leaving him stunned, she vaulted over to the floor below, flipped over the remains of the table, and snapped off one of the legs. Her adrenaline was pumping so quickly and rapidly that she didn't even notice the flames that licked her hands. Whirling around, she renewed her pursuit of Angel. The vampire was only just recovering from her blow, but he managed to raise an arm to block her downward thrust with the stake. There was a sickening sound as the wood went straight through his hand and out the other side. Angel gritted his teeth in pain, but he was alive.

Buffy kicked him in the stomach, sending him backwards and ripping her stake free. Angel hit the other end of the walkway, almost tumbling into the flames.

Buffy advanced, slowly, raising her stake. She grabbed him by his shirt front and held him there, wanting her face to be the last thing she saw.

"Close your eyes," she whispered, and plunged the stake home.

Angel collapsed into dust.

Buffy stood, trembling with exhaustion, as the remains of her former love settled over her. The stake clattered to the floor as her nerveless fingers gave.

_Angel…_

Something in her mind brought another thought to her attention. She remembered, and leapt back to the ground and ran to Giles. Numbly, she dropped down next to him and shook his shoulder. "Giles…Giles, c'mon. We've…we've gotta go…we've gotta run…"

He didn't move.

"Oh my god…oh my god…"

She was crying now, shaking Giles again and again. "Giles, no, please…you can't leave me like this…I can't do this on my own…"

But her Watcher did not stir. He did not even draw breath…and Buffy knew she'd come far too late.


	2. Hellish Morning

If you can stand to wait another chapter, that's when the big revelation is. So, hopefully things pick up a bit in this one. Please bear with me, and I hope you enjoy.

* * *

Her friends arrived less than twenty minutes later, and when they did it was to find Buffy, sitting before the burning factory with a huddled shape beside her.

"Buffy!" cried Willow, vaulting out of the car before it had even stopped moving and hurrying towards her. "What's happened?!"

Buffy looked up at her, tears still marked on her cheeks. "Angel's dead," she croaked.

Willow blinked…then smiled in relief. "Buffy," she said, dropping down next to her friend. "I mean…I know you loved him, but…"

Buffy was saved having to tell Willow the horrible, impossible truth by Cordelia. All of her friends had drawn around her in a huddle, and Cordelia suddenly screamed. _"Oh god!"_

Buffy hid her face in her hands and Xander gently, almost reverentially, turned Giles over for them all to see.

Willow was silent for a beat, then she let out a wail of misery and joined Buffy in sobbing. Xander bowed his head, saying nothing, and gently closed the Watcher's eyes.

* * *

A scavenged wooden coffin in an unmarked grave in a foggy graveyard in the gray time between late night and early morning.

That was how Rupert Giles was buried. Beside the grave of the night's other victim, Jennifer Calendar.

The only ones in attendance were Buffy, Xander, and Willow. Cordelia had stayed by her car. She'd said she didn't want it to get stolen.

Very little was said. Very little could bear to be said. The Slayer felt like the despair would suffocate her, felt like her heart would stop from grief and guilt and shame.

For now, his grave was marked with a single, makeshift cross stuck into the ground. Later, she would get him a proper headstone, a headstone to match Jenny's in solemnity. Or perhaps she would leave it like this. Leave her Watcher buried as he had lived. In the background. On the sidelines. Quietly doing what had to be done.

Hadn't he stood by her one late night, when she'd buried Ford in a grave so like this one?

_"I believe it's called 'growing up'."_

_"I'd like to stop now, please. Does it ever get easy?"_

_"You mean life?"_

_"Yeah. Does it get easy?"_

_"What do you want me to say?"_

_"Lie to me."_

Willow and Xander disappeared for about an hour after the ceremony. When they returned, Willow was holding one of Giles' books and Xander was holding a small sack.

Quietly, unspeaking, the two of them set to work consecrating the two side-by-side graves. Giles and Jenny. Buffy cried silently as she watched them moving dreamily.Xander was the first to speak.

"That'll do it," he said. "I think…he'd want that. He wouldn't want any vampires messing with him or Miss Calendar. Not now."

Willow nodded, wiping her eyes. She looked up at Buffy. "Buffy…I'm so sorry."

Buffy hung her head. "What are you apologizing for? You're not the one who killed him," she whispered.

"Don't say that, Buff," said Xander gently. "It's not like you staked him."

Buffy hugged her shoulders. "I had a choice," she said in a broken voice. "I could've saved him…or I could've killed Angel. I thought…I just thought that after everything had happened…everything Angel did, to him and all of us…he'd want me to kill him. So…I did. I killed Angel…and I killed Giles at the same time." She looked up at her friends. "Maybe I made the right choice." Her voice was almost incoherent with sadness now. "But I don't care. I want Giles back."

Somehow, they ended up at school half an hour before the bell rang. Buffy didn't know why they went. But they did. Her friends flanked her like an honor guard, but nothing was said. No laugher, no jokes. Those might never come again.

* * *

"I don't know anything about it," said Buffy dully.

"You were thrown out of your old school on counts of arson!" snapped Principal Snyder. "Among other things. That warehouse burned down under mysterious circumstances…so immediately I thought of you."

"I don't know anything about it," Buffy repeated, staring at her lap as Snyder paced around her in his office.

_Giles does…did. It was his stupid Molotov that burned it down._

"We can play this game all day, Miss Summers. Did you burn down the warehouse?"

"No. I didn't."

"Then who did?" asked Snyder patiently.

"I don't know anything about it."

Snyder slammed both hands down on his desk and leaned forward until they were face-to-face. They would have been eye-to-eye, but Buffy didn't have the willpower to meet his gaze. "You are not a parrot, Miss Summers. And I know you know something. I can _smell _it."

"I didn't take a shower last night, if that helps."

"That does _not _help. I will ask you one more time: what happened at the warehouse?"

Buffy's temper snapped. Her head snapped up.

"You want to know what happened?! Miss Calendar was murdered by a psycho, Giles tracked him down and tried to kill him, I went to rescue him but I got so busy fighting Angel that I left him there to burn! It's Giles' fault but if you want to punish him for it you'd better brush up on your necromancy, because he's _dead!_ I didn't _do anything!_"

Snyder blinked.

"…and just for laughs, I'll go ahead and ask," he said, after a minute. "What's your proof, Miss Summers?"

Buffy stood up, fists clenching.

"My proof is lying side-by-side in a graveyard," she growled. "Go and look. I have classes."

She turned and strode out of the room. She vaguely heard Snyder assign her some ridiculous amount of detentions, and really didn't care.

Xander met her outside the door.

"What happened?" asked Xander intently.

"Snyder being Snyder," said Buffy dully. "Where's Will?"

Xander smiled. "She's taken over Miss Calendar's class. Didn't she tell you?"

"No one better," said Buffy confidently. "Well, I've got some of my own classes to get to." She held up a hand. "Later."

She started to walk down the hallway, but Xander caught up to her. "Buffy…I just wanted to say…you need to talk…say anything, or…y'know, need a shoulder…I'm here for you."

Buffy smiled tiredly at him. "Thanks, Xander. I'll remember that."

He smiled back. "You'd better."

* * *

"Hi. Principal Snyder has asked me to fill in for Miss Calendar's class until the new computer science teacher arrives," said Willow shyly, as the class stared at her with huge, solemn eyes. "So I'm just going to stick to the lesson plan she left."

Horribly aware of their eyes boring into her, perhaps trying to glean some truth into what had become of their teacher, Willow walked around to the back of the desk…that position which for so long had seemed like sacred, forbidden territory, and set down her things. The desk was crowded with the remains of Miss Calendar's last project, and she accidentally knocked a few things off of it.

She resolved to pick them up later.


	3. Risen

It was late afternoon.

And, as it turned out, one member of the Scooby gang now had a lot to think about.

One thing Rupert Giles had to consider was that he'd apparently died a few hours ago. He'd woken up in a consecrated grave, and had dug himself out into direct sunlight. If Drusilla hadn't been prepared and had not pulled him into this dark, cool crypt, he'd have died all over again.

So as well as being confused, he wasn't in the best of moods.

"Not exactly your best entrance," said Spike cheerfully, as Drusilla threw off the blanket she had used to rescue him. "I know you're new to this and all, but staying out of the sun is generally a good way to go."

"His skin's all cracked!" said Drusilla wonderingly.

"That tends to happen when a vampire tries his hand at sunbathing, poodle," said Spike. The blonde vampire made a play of inspecting her. "You, on the other hand, got off scot-free. And burn-free. Lovely as always. Well, Watcher, got anything to say for yourself? Like a 'thank you, dear and wonderful Dru, for saving my sorry life'?"

But Giles was too wrapped in thought to hear him. The ground had burned him. That meant someone had consecrated it. But who?

Buffy.

Anger rose inside of him. Hot, burning anger, burning like the sunlight. She had caused him that pain.

Spike smiled indulgently as, apparently unconsciously, Giles let out a low, visceral growl.

"Consecrated," he growled. "She bloody well consecrated it."

"Hurt like hell, didn't it?" said Spike cheerfully. "Your own Slayer."

Slowly, as his skin started to cool, Giles pushed himself to his feet. Spike's smile widened as he saw the enlarged brow ridges, the gleaming fangs, the piercing yellow eyes.

"She's not my Slayer," the former Watcher growled. "Not anymore."

Spike folded his arms, staring up at him. "I'd love to see you prove it," he said. "I'd take her still-warm heart as suitable proof, although a gallon-bottle of her blood would do me fine, too. I'm not picky."

"That shouldn't be a problem." And he knew it wouldn't. The demon now inhabiting Giles' body absently sifted through his memories, and knew it wouldn't be a problem. She would never raise her hand to him. Not after she had left him to burn.

Through the fog of his own thoughts, he heard Spike talking.

"It's like a test, see. You survive, you're in. You pass, you're the bloody Messiah. You fail…you die. Again. And it starts tomorrow night. Your objective is to find your former Slayer…and suck her dry. Clear?"

Giles snorted. In annoyance, he grabbed Spike's shirt front and slammed him into the crypt wall.

"I don't recall allowing you to give me orders," he growled.

Drusilla hissed like a cat, morphing as she leapt. Giles used his other hand to punch her hard across the face, sending Spike's lover into the opposite wall.

"Dru!" Spike yelled. "Damn you, Watcher! You're supposed to do as I say!"

Giles slammed Spike even harder into the crypt, staring at him yellow eye-to-yellow eye.

"That's too bad. Because I don't. And I won't. You and Drusilla will follow me. Or I will rip your throats out. Are we clear?"

"No, we are not sodding…"

Giles snarled, opening his mouth wide to let his fangs show. He let them drift toward Spike's neck for a heartbeat…then he pulled away, and smiled amiably.

"Would you like me to convince you?" he asked.

* * *

_Spike and Drusilla watched the huddled figure on the ground, heard its breathing slow and grow faint as the battle raged above them._

"_Almost gone," Drusilla purred. "Burning, burning, burning…soon he'll be back with the bad, bad teacher…burning. Isn't he pretty when he's burning, Spike?"_

"_Yes, Dru," said Spike absently. He watched Giles, arms folded thoughtfully. Then:_

"_You wanna live, Watcher?"_

_He got no reply, and motioned for Drusilla to help him. She heaved him out of his wheelchair and settled him down next to the dying man. "You don't wanna go like this," he continued, trying to sound reasonable. "Toasted like a marshmallow. Not you. You go like this, your Slayer's gonna be all alone. Her and her little friends. And you don't want that. You wanna live?"_

_The response was faint, but Spike heard it._

"_Please…"_

_He knew the man was too far gone to register who was speaking, almost too far gone to even hear his words. But Spike grinned all the same, allowing himself to change._

"_Happy to oblige," he said, and dragged the Watcher into a better position to bite him._

_His victim nearly died of shock as Spike sank his teeth in, but held on. Drusilla obligingly cut Spike's wrist, letting the blood flow. The Watcher was so close to asphyxiation that he welcomed the liquid, neither knowing nor caring what it would do to him._

_When Spike was done, he laid the man on the floor of the burning warehouse, just as they'd found him, and regarded his pale color and still chest._

"_Nice little surprise for the Slayer, eh Dru?"_

"_Very nice surprise," Drusilla cooed, draping herself over him. "My Spike knows how to treat a lady…"_

_Together, they fled the warehouse._

"_If he survives the night, we'll keep him. If he kills the Slayer…well, we'll see. We'll see, poodle."_

* * *

Cue dramatic music! sighs I just seem to enjoy abusing Giles.


	4. I'm Back

Willow found Buffy in the library after school. Willow herself didn't know why she went. More than likely she went out of habit, because it was where she went whenever she had a free moment. Went to research, hack into a government database, talk, listen…

Buffy sat at the table, chin in her hands, staring blankly into space.

Willow cleared her throat nervously. "…Buffy?"

Buffy jerked violently. "Huh? What?"

Willow waved shyly. "Hi. Ah…how are you doing?"

She kicked herself for the words. After all, how else would Buffy be doing? Her friend looked lost, confused, and so utterly despairing that Willow's heart ached even further.

Buffy smiled sadly. "I…I really don't know." She shrugged. "Why did I even come in here today?" She laughed harshly. "It's not like I have anyone to report to, or beat up, or argue with…"

Willow sat down next to her and put an arm around Buffy's shoulders. Buffy leaned against Willow, letting her head rest on her friend's shoulders. "I know. I just came because…well…we come here everyday."

"I know."

Willow looked around. "It's so…empty."

"It was always empty, Will."

"I know, but…he made it sort of…" Willow waved her hands uselessly, trying to articulate words that wouldn't come. "You know."

"I know." Buffy heaved a sigh. "I guess…well, I've got to do his job and mine, now. That's…way wigged. I can't read half of these books! I can't tell what language half of these books are in!"

Willow raised a hand. "Well…Buffy, I can do some of the research. I mean, I helped him a ton of times before. And I can read Latin, and French, and I'm learning Greek, so I can get the gist of those books…"

Buffy raised her head sharply, looking hard at Willow. "Will, no. I can't ask you to do that! You guys have gone above and beyond already, and you've got your grades and…and your schoolwork, and your life…"

Willow smiled. "You're not asking. I am offering. And…" she shrugged. "Books pretty much are my life. And…you're my friend, Buffy. I want to help."

Buffy smiled weakly in return. "God, Willow…thank you."

Willow hugged her. "No problem. No problem at all."

They stayed there for a while, saying and doing nothing, until the doors were slammed open violently enough to make Buffy nearly fall off her chair. Willow felt a jolt run through her, and whirled around…

…to see Oz.

Her heart skipped a little. Oz. Wow. Her boyfriend. Her werewolf boyfriend. Standing in the doorway, panting for breath, looking very, very tense. And angry. And worried, too. She remembered that they hadn't seen eachother much since finding out that he was, indeed, a werewolf. She could understand that. A revelation like finding that you suddenly needed to be locked in the book cage for three days a month took some working out.

"I just heard," said Oz quietly. "Miss Calendar…Mr. Giles…" He swallowed. "Much badness."

Willow, still hugging Buffy, nodded at him. "Yeah. Much badness."

Oz looked around numbly, and Willow saw his gaze fall on the bookcage.

Buffy raised her head. "Your whole 'time of the month' schedule will not change," she assured the boy. This seemed to give Oz a little relief. His mouth twitched.

"Good," he said. "That's…good." He took a step towards them. "Ah…Buffy…Willow…if there's anything you need me for. Like, you know…" he looked around, and dropped his voice to a hushed whisper. "…vampires, however you're supposed to kill them…gimme a call, okay?"

Willow nodded. "Sure. Thanks, Oz."

Buffy smiled. "Thanks, Oz."

"No sweat," said the werewolf fervently. "So…I guess…I'll see you."

Buffy raised her hand. "See you," she echoed.

"See you," said Willow.

Oz left the library. A second later, Xander strode in with Cordelia trailing behind him.

"Reporting for duty!" said Xander, snapping off a salute.

Cordelia rolled her eyes. "God, Xander! Overdone much? You may be able to put together an M-16 in however many seconds, but if you do that one more time…"

Xander glowered at her, and Cordelia pulled off a sarcastic salute of her own. "Reporting for duty…although I really have nothing to contribute." She cast a critical eye over Buffy, Willow, and Xander. "Unless you want me to design uniforms. I could design uniforms. Do we need uniforms?"

"We do not need uniforms," said Buffy flatly.

"Can I go then?"

Buffy sighed and waved her hand. "Sure."

Cordelia beamed. "Great!" she chirped. Then, turning on her heel, she flounced towards the door, and opened it. Just before departing, however, the girl glanced over her shoulder at Buffy. "Oh, by the way? I'm…real sorry about last night. Giles and Miss Calendar? Talk about short-staffed."

With that, she was gone.

Xander heaved a sigh. "Oh, well. I'm still here, Buffy. What do you need me to do? Just name it!"

"I'm still trying to figure out what I need to do," said Buffy bitterly.

"I am now research-girl," said Willow helpfully.

"So no change then?" asked Xander dryly, joining them at the table. "Well, if Will's inheriting the research…hey, maybe I could help with the fighting? I mean, how hard can it be to use a pointy stick?"

Buffy's mouth twisted into a wry smile. "You really want to know?"

Xander nodded fervently. "Yeah, I do. C'mon, Buff, I want to help. And if I need to get knocked around to learn this stuff, gimme the lumps now!"

She smiled. "Okee dokee. We start right now."

She got to her feet and walked over to the bookcage. She snapped the lock off on the weapons-cabinet, since its owner was now six feet under ground, and opened the doors to display their impressive array of weaponry. "We'll start with the stakes. Then we'll move on to the quarterstaff."

Xander put on a slightly pleading look. "Can't I try the crossbow?"

"Crossbow's tougher than it looks…and the idea of you with edged or piercing weaponry is a scary one. Let's master the stake first."

* * *

"What's up, dude?" demanded Devon, as Dingoes Ate My Baby took five after their first three songs. "I thought we agreed on 'Fate'? You know, get people warmed up for the good stuff."

Oz made a noncommitive noise. He knew he shouldn't have switched to "Shadows" without telling them, it had caused a moment's panic, but it had been a spur of the moment idea, it had worked, and…

"It looked like it fit the mood," he said. "A lot of the kids here are from Miss Calendar's class."

Devon sighed. "But what about the kids who aren't from her class?"

"Then we'll play whatever they want. We always do. But their teacher was murdered... so I figured they deserved a cookie."

Devon frowned thoughtfully. "Yeah, that's the thing. Do they have any clue who did it yet?"

Oz shook his head, intent on tuning his guitar.

"I mean, who'd kill her? She rocked!"

He nodded absently.

"Nobody really knew her, though…"

Another nod. He sort of wished Devon would stop talking so he could concentrate.

"I mean, if it weren't for the fact that he bit it on the same night the police might have been questioning that librarian…"

His hand jerked convulsively and the string snapped. Oz gave Devon a very long look. He liked Devon, Devon was a good friend…but sometimes the boy didn't think.

"It wasn't Mr. Giles," said Oz, slowly and clearly, before returning to work.

Devon swallowed, but did not reply.

Dingoes reconvened a few moments later, instruments in hand. Devon announced that their next number would be "She Knows". Oz saw a few grimaces in the crowd, and knew some of their audience thought it was an inappropriate choice. He no longer had the willpower to correct his band-mate, though, and dutifully struck up the opening chords.

He let his mind wander as his fingers did the work. His gaze scanned the crowd. Most were dancing, but it was easy to spot the dancers with sadness in their steps. It was easy to spot Miss Calendar's class. He couldn't see Willow, or Xander, of Buffy. He saw Cordelia, but that was no surprise.

A few were even leaving. Most hurried out alone, but he saw a couple walking out, arm-in-arm. He suspected that the lyrics weren't bothering them over more…personal concerns.

He smiled. So the world turns.

Dingoes played four more songs and gave three encores. It was a good night. The manger paid them, and Oz dutifully counted the money and doled it out to his fellows. "Good job tonight, guys," he said.

"Seventy five bucks!" said Devon happily, stuffing the wad of bills into his pocket. "This is putting me through college, man!"

If you ever get to college, Oz thought wryly. He didn't say it out loud, however, because Devon was still his friend and seventy-five was seventy-five. He stuffed his own bills into his pocket and hefted his guitar case. "I'll go load this up. Don't be too long."

Leaving his band-mates to pack up, Oz left to get the car ready.

He stored his guitar and walked around to the front door. Just before he could reach the handle, his foot bumped against something and he stumbled. His hand came down on something…soft.

Oz felt his heart skip, and he slowly looked down at the corpse.

It was a boy, maybe his own age. The same boy who'd left the Bronze during "She Knows"…arm-in-arm with a girl he had never seen before. She'd left with him into the dark and shadows where no one would see him die.

He swallowed, straightened, carefully closed the dead boy's eyes. Then he went back inside, and left his van with one of his band mates for the night.

Slowly, with a carefully measured pace, he walked down the alley, making for the street. The street, with street lamps and other people and comparative safety.

He felt the person coming up behind him an instant before a cold hand closed around his throat. He choked, and the grip tightened.

"Good evening, Oz," a voice murmured in his ear. "That was quite a performance tonight."

He tried to pry the fingers off of his throat, but they were vice-like. His vision was starting to swim.

"I have a message for you to deliver," said the speaker pleasantly. "For your new friends. Can you do that for me?"

The grip loosened enough for Oz to take a hurried gasp of air. He felt hot breath on the back of his neck, and wondered if this was how the ones he'd hunted as a werewolf had felt. As soon as he did, he resolved to buy heavier shackles.

"Well?" asked the man.

Oz grimaced. "…depends on the message," he croaked.

"It's very easy to remember. As a matter of fact, it's just two words,"

Before Oz knew it, he was flying through the air. He hit the ground on his shoulder, painfully skidding along the concrete. He slid to a stop at the alley mouth, and painfully pushed himself to his knees to better see his attacker.

Three figures stood in the shadows. The two smaller ones flanked the larger one. On the right stood a bleach-blonde teenage boy in a dusty blazer, sitting comfortably in a wheelchair. His face was twisted into a vampire's hunting face. On the left stood a girl, with long black hair, in a tight red shirt and black leather pants. Her face was also contorted into its vampiric form.

In the middle…

Oz swallowed painfully. Giles took a step forward, bringing his vampire face into sharp and horrible relief.

"I'm back," said the former Watcher softly.

Oz got to his feet, turned, and ran as though the dogs of hell were on his heels.

But they weren't. The dogs of hell stayed in the alley mouth, and as they watched their victim disappear into the night they re-entered the Bronze, in search of a new one.

Giles, who was already known to be technically dead, waited outside. He watched the streets, watched the people hurrying home.

Then, he started walking.

"Or perhaps I could tell them myself," he murmured.


	5. Bang

Going on patrol that night had been hard. It had been hard to remind herself that she was the Slayer, that vampires were still on the hunt, that the world was still turning.

But she was.

And they were.

And it was.

So she did.

But she'd gone alone, after ordering Xander and Willow back home before the sun set. Xander had wanted to come, and he'd proved better than a stake than she'd expected.

But Buffy still wasn't ready to risk anyone else just yet.

Exhausted and looking forward to going to bed, she slipped into the library to lock up for the night. She locked the weapon's cabinet with the new lock Xander had purchased. She locked the bookcage. She put away the books Willow had been researching. She carefully put the stakes away and hung the crosses in their proper place.

"Look at me," she murmured, pulling out her last stake and fingering Angel's cross. "I'm suddenly Miss Organized."

"Yes, and I must say it's a nice surprise."

Buffy gasped in fright and whirled around, raising the stake.

A figure leaned against the banister lining the higher levels of the library. A horribly, impossibly familiar figure.

Buffy gasped. "Giles…"

He smiled. "Hello, Buffy."

"But…" She was starting to shake, and gripped her weapon-hand with her other hand to steady it. "You're…you're…" She bit her lip to stop the tears from coming. "I…I buried you myself…"

Her voice sounded feeble, plaintive. A part of her knew that something was wrong, very wrong, but the greater part of her wanted to believe that her Watcher was here, in the library, where he'd practically lived.

"Yes, you did," said Giles calmly. He turned towards a bookshelf, apparently interested in the ancient volumes he practically knew by heart. "And you consecrated it. You _consecrated _my grave."

"I…I thought that's what you'd want. Well, Xander and Willow did…"

Buffy stopped. She felt a slow, sinking feeling in he stomach.

"Oh my god…"

The horrible, sick realization had just hit her. "Who did it?" she demanded, backing towards the door.

"Spike, actually," said Giles, turning to face her. His yellow eyes gleamed in the dim lights. "Of course, I didn't know it at the time. I was too much in pain to know anything." He looked straight at her, making sure his words hit home. "Burning is a very painful way to die. I almost burned to death a second time. There is a reason most funerals are held during the day, Buffy. You might want to remember that. Burning is very, very painful."

"I know," said Buffy quietly. "Drowning's almost as bad."

"But you came back. When you never should have. The cycle demands that if another Slayer is called, you have to die."

He pulled something out of his coat pocket, and Buffy swallowed.

It was a gun. An old style gun, something that would only hold six shots, but it _was _a gun.

He pointed it at her. "Why don't we fix that little discrepancy right now?"

He fired. She fell backwards and heard the bullet whistle over her head, heard it hit the door. Buffy used her momentum to roll backwards and get up quickly. She shoved the door open and ran out into the hallway, feet pounding on the linoleum floors.

She heard them slam back again, and ducked just as another bullet whistled over her head. She had no cover in the halls. They were _meant _to be open. She had to get away.

But he was chasing her.

And he was gaining.

Buffy made a decision.

She took a hard right and turned into the cafeteria. Not stopping to see what her pursuer would do, she picked a table at random and punched straight down. The wood splintered under her knuckles, and as she straightened up she was holding a passable stake.

With her other hand, she ripped off Angel's cross and readied it.

_I'm not gonna die like this._

He raised the gun without even glancing at her weapons.

_Big mistake._

She hurled the stake just as he pulled the trigger. Survival instinct kicked in, and he ducked before he could fire again. Buffy twisted out of the way, but wasn't quite fast enough. A hot, searing pain grazed her shoulder and she could feel blood leaking down her shirt.

But she didn't let that stop her.

Buffy moved in fast, and had the gun in her hand just as Giles was getting his bearings back. He snarled at her, and she almost snarled back before hitting him in the face with Angel's cross. He fell back, both hands over his smoking face.

She came away with the gun. Adrenaline was still pumping, and she didn't even think as she emptied the last three shots into her former Watcher.

Only when she saw the three wounds oozing blood did the truth of what she'd done hit her. Her hands started to shake. "Oh my god…"

Giles got to his feet and punched her. Buffy hit the floor and slid along it until she collided painfully with some lockers.

"That was foolish," he said reproachfully. "Buffy, you should know better. Bullets do absolutely nothing to kill a vampire."

Buffy spat some blood out of her mouth. The blow had brought her back to her senses. This was not Giles she was fighting. Not anymore.

"Bet it hurts, though," she growled. "I mean, just think of your dry-cleaning bill. Oh, wait. The dry cleaner doesn't do night work, _you monster_!"

He lunged. She got to her feet and kept running, barely stopping to kick the front doors open. She heard the lock _snap_, the doors flew open, and she raced into the night with the vampire on her heels.

Fortunately, she still had the gun. It was empty, but the fact that she had it meant that he didn't.

But her shoulder hurt, her lungs were burning, and most of her energy was being taken up by mind-numbing confusion and terror. _Oh god, this can't be happening…_


	6. Longest Night

For my regular readers, the rest of the chapter is contained in this. I thought two chapters with a word count of 2000+ might be a bit much. Plus, I want to milk the suspense, because I'm completely shameless that way!

* * *

"Buffy!"

A door was open in an upcoming house. Light was spilling out onto a driveway. Willow stood, in her pajamas and slippers, staring in terror as Buffy fled.

"Buffy, come on!" she yelled again.

Giles had been inside Willow's house before, but that had been as a human. Would the invite still work?

She made another decision. Skidding to a stop, Buffy ripped up a bench from the ground and hurled it at her pursuer. It knocked him over, and she used the precious moment to race up the path towards Willow.

She flung herself over the threshold, her friend pulling her through. She heard Giles snarl as he bounced off of the barrier. Her gamble had paid off.

Slowly, hesitantly, Buffy got to her feet and turned to face her former Watcher.

"Get out of here," she whispered.

Giles' face morphed again, becoming human. Buffy felt Willow tense beside her, but Giles merely smiled at the both of them. Buffy felt her heart ache. The expression on his face was still too familiar, too friendly. He had smiled at her like that when she'd done well, when he was proud of her.

But she dug in her heels, and Giles merely nodded.

"See you tomorrow night, then," he said, turning away and walking down the path without looking back. "Don't forget to practice, Buffy. I'll be testing you."

"B…Buffy…" Willow whimpered. "That's…"

"Giles," said Buffy. "I know." She felt hot tears sting her eyes, and didn't even bother to hold them in. "Willow…I thought I was doing the right thing…but I did the wrong thing. I made the wrong choice, I should have saved him! But it's too late, and Giles is gone, Will, he's gone…"

Blessedly, Willow folded her into a hug. Buffy could feel Willow crying as well, but she held back her tears for Buffy's sake. The girl let the misery overtake her, let herself sob until no tears were left. Then…

"Xander."

"What?" asked Willow.

"Xander. We need to call Xander. And Oz, Cordy…we've got to get the word out, Wil. They don't know, they might let him in!"

"You don't need to worry about me," said Oz, who was suddenly in the hallway. Buffy stared at him open-mouthed. Oz smiled sheepishly. "I…ran into him first. I wanted to find you, but…"

"It's my fault," said Willow sadly. "I didn't want him going out after…after he told me. I…I never thought he'd come after you, though…I mean…" she hurriedly tried to correct herself. "…come after you so fast, he would've just been turned last night…"

"I know what you mean, Will," said Buffy quietly. She looked up at Oz. "I'm just glad he didn't kill you."

Willow nodded. "Yeah. Me, too…" She stared hard at Buffy. "You okay?"

Buffy shook her head. "No, Will. I'll never be okay again." She wiped her eyes. "But I've got a job to do. I've got to stop him. I won't make the same mistakes I made with Angel!"

Willow took one phone, Buffy took the other. Oz watched the door. Willow called Xander. Buffy called Cordelia and her mother.

Cordelia accepted the truth easily.

Her mother was a hard call to make.

"But I don't understand, Buffy. You told me Mr. Giles was dead!"

"Mom, I know! I thought he was, but he's not!"

"You mean you buried someone alive?!"

"It was an accident!"

"Buffy, you shouldn't avoid him over that, I'm sure he'd forgive you…"

Buffy ground her teeth in frustration. She remembered Giles' adamant refusal that she tell her Mom what she was, and once again it was coming back to bite her.

So she resorted to the one excuse that she knew would work.

"Mom, Giles is the one who killed Miss Calendar!"

In the living room, she heard Willow almost drop the phone. Buffy bit her lip, hating herself for the lie but knowing it was the only thing her mother would believe.

Her mother sounded flabbergasted. "Are…are you sure?!"

"Mom, I'm positive! He as good as admitted it!"

"I…I don't believe it…he seemed like such a nice man…"

Buffy wiped at her stinging eyes. "I know," she said, her voice cracking. "But he's not the same person he was. Mom, please! Don't let him in!"

"I…I won't, Buffy. I promise. Get some sleep. Make sure you get up on time in the morning."

"Yeah, Mom. I will. Good night."

She hung up. Hesitantly, Willow entered. Buffy shot her a look.

"It was the only thing I could think of," she said coldly.

Willow nodded. "I…I know. You'll need to stay the night. You can't…you can't go home tonight, Buffy. He's…out there…"

"I know," said Buffy dully. Giles was out there, in the night, waiting for her. The one time she let her guard down, he would pounce. And it wouldn't be a practice fight. Not anymore. He might still correct her on faulty techniques, but it would only be after he'd ripped her throat out.

The memories of the vampire mingled with memories of the Watcher. She remembered how his greatest fears had been forgetting how to read…and sitting by her grave. She remembered how she could always gain ground in an argument by pouting. She remembered how he'd chased her, always seeming only a breath behind. She remembered the way his face had changed, becoming vicious and evil.

Willow hugged her tightly as Buffy cried. In the living room, Oz quietly went about his task laying out Buffy's sleeping bag.


	7. Trying Times

Exposition chapter! A summarized version of the altered "Killed by Death" and "I Only Have Eye for You"

* * *

It was a very long, very exhausting time.

Buffy continued to force herself to patrol, and patrol alone. Now she was dealing not only with garden-variety vamps, but Spike, Drusilla, and Giles in some combination at least once a night. She supposed she shouldn't have been surprised that Spike and Drusilla were working for Giles. Oz had warned her that first night at Willow's, but it had still been an especially unpleasant surprise when they had all jumped her the second night.

Buffy got the impression that Giles was doing what he'd said he'd do: test her. That was what the fights with him still felt like. Tests. Tests that could cost her life, but still tests. Drusilla treated their fights like games, and Buffy couldn't help but see she was getting better. The female vampire was predicting her moves, and coming up with some moves of her own.

_My Watcher's still in the Watching biz. Now he's running a night school. _

Blessedly, Spike remained wheel-chair bound. Whenever he came, it was to cheer on Drusilla.

Buffy was exhausted and tired and stressed beyond all belief. She'd never fully appreciated how much her life would spiral out of control without someone to do everything her Watcher had done, but now she did. Now that Willow was yawning fifty times a day from exhaustion and Xander could barely walk for bruises, she appreciated it fully.

She was out of it for a few days after a flu bug caused her to collapse in the middle of a fight. Fortunately Xander, Willow, Oz, and Cordelia had finally convinced her to let them come that night, probably sensing her declining health. They had stopped her opponent from making a quick snack out of her, and taken her to the hospital.

Of course, it had turned out that the hospital was haunted by an evil being called _Der Kindestod_ that Buffy could only see when she was sick. Taking out her severe hatred of hospitals on the beast, after finding out that he was to blame for it, Buffy snapped his neck with a fever of 107.

What Xander never told her was that, while she slept off her sickness, he had stood guard in the waiting room. And it had proven a good thing that he had, because Giles and Drusilla had paid Buffy a late-night visit. Xander had never been more terrified in his life, not even when it looked like he was going to die by mating with a giant bug, but he had stood his ground and they had let Buffy be.

After that, they'd found the school possessed by two vengeful ghosts, the ghosts of two lovers. They lived out their torment by making others repeat their tragedy line by line and act by act, and it had been generating a lot of deaths…not to mention the snakes in the cafeteria and the threatening messages appearing on the chalkboard. After some particularly exhausting research, they had decided to attempt an exorcism. The exorcism had been interrupted by Giles and his new students, and the two "younger" vampires had had a lot of fun spending the night chasing the Scoobies through the school. Spike in particular had pursued Willow (_In a wheelchair, for God's sake!_) for at least half an hour until he'd stumbled on Buffy dueling with Giles. Willow had ducked into the nearest classroom to hide while Buffy, with some difficulty and the help of Xander, fought off both vampires.

That hadn't been the weirdest part of the evening by far. While they'd been doing this, Oz and Drusilla had ended up solving the entire problem. Oz, possessed by the high school senior James, had acted out his part in the play while possessed. He shot Drusilla, possessed by Miss Newman. However, for the first time the play had continued beyond its usual ending. "Miss Newman", now in a still functioning body, had recovered in time to stop "James" from committing suicide once again. Finally forgiven, James had passed on along with his love…leaving Oz and Drusilla kissing passionately in the music room. If Xander, Cordelia, and Buffy hadn't shown up at that point, Buffy knew that another corpse would have been added to the growing roster.

_Which begs the question…what do you get when you make a vampire out of a werewolf?_

_I'll ask Will._


	8. New Guy in Town

Sorry about the missed updates. Two days ago I was on a plane. Yesterday my Internet was uncooperative and I had much homework. With any luck, this double update will go at least some lengths to earning your forgiveness. Enjoy.

* * *

The following day, Buffy slouched into the library…to find a very unpleasant surprise.

There was a man in there, poking around the bookshelves and rearranging things. Several boxes were stacked against the wall, and as Buffy cautiously approached she saw that many of them were filled with books.

Buffy wondered if Snyder had finally gotten around to hiring a new librarian.

"Who the hell are you?" she demanded. Hell with it, this was practically her library now!

The man jumped and whirled around. Buffy immediately pegged him as British, due to the fact that he was wearing tweed. The man had a rather thin face, and…yes, he had glasses. He was definitely British.

As soon as that thought sank in, Buffy felt her stomach clench. Oh, god no. Surely, after all this time…?

"Buffy Summers?" asked the man curiously.

_I mean, sheesh! He's half Giles' age!_

Buffy folded her arms. "Who's asking?" she demanded.

He drew himself up, and Buffy was reminded forcibly of a pufferfish trying to scare off a predator. "I am your new school librarian, and you will address me with respect, young lady," he said sternly.

"Riiiiiight. And you _haven't _been sent by the Council because I've been Watcher-less for the past two months?"

He blinked. "So you _are_…?"

Buffy's fists clenched. Her jaw locked.

He cleared his throat, held out a hand formally. "Wesley Wyndham-Pryce. Very pleased…"

She turned on her heel and left the library, firing a single parting shot over her shoulder.

"Screw _that_."

* * *

Giving Buffy that line was...odd. I figured she and the Scoobies could only function for so long before the Council got wind that something was wrong and intervened. So...here's Wesley Wyndham-Pryce, a season early. Take that as you will.

Lets see how he does without Giles to clash with.


	9. Cold Shoulders and Good Nights

By the time Wesley Windham-Pryce had tracked Buffy down, it was to find her surrounded by full Scooby entourage

"So, this is the guy?" asked Xander, watching the man hurrying towards them.

"That is the guy," said Buffy grimly.

Willow made a face. "He's kinda young."

"He's _way _young," Buffy corrected her.

"Not that that's a bad thing," said Cordelia softly.

Wesley closed the distance between them and stared, wide-eyed, at the rest of the Scoobies. Then, he stared at Buffy. "Buffy, really. I…" He cast a furtive look at the others again. "I really need to talk to you about that…about that book…"

"On how to avert the apocalypse for the fifth time this week?" asked Xander loudly.

From the reaction this elicited, Xander might as well have dropped his pants. Wesley let out a strange, spluttering noise and looked at Buffy in horror.

"They _know?_" he demanded. Buffy nodded, refusing to break eye contact.

"They know," she said coldly. "Got a problem with that?"

"Well, as a matter of fact…"

"Too bad. They know."

"But surely your last Watcher…" said Wesley desperately.

Buffy held up a hand, and glared at him. "He did. And you know what? He got over it. They. Know."

Wesley exhaled and said, in the voice of an innocent dealing with great trials. "May I ask _why_, in defiance of all Council laws…"

Buffy snorted. "The _Council_?" she asked disdainfully. "Please. Giles died two months ago, and they're only just getting around to me? Where were you?"

Welsey flushed angrily. "The…The Council is very busy, and we're very short-staffed," he said, slowly and carefully. "We had to make sure that Mr. Giles was truly dead before we used up our already limited manpower to send over a replacement…"

"It's gotta be pretty limited for Buffy to get stuck with a weasel like you," Xander growled.

Buffy smiled indulgently at him. "Xander. I can handle this."

Xander made a few grumbling noises, but folded his arms and settled back against the tree by Cordelia. Cordelia herself had not taken her eyes off Wesley in five minutes.

Slowly, Buffy got to her feet and stood nose-to-nose with her Watcher-to-be.

"I don't give a damn about your Council," she hissed. "And I don't give a damn about anything you tell me. I don't need a Watcher anymore. My friends and I have held down the fort for two…damn…months. And I don't need someone sweeping in here and telling us how to do our jobs. Sorry you had to waste plane fair, Wesley Wyndham-Pryce. But I want you gone by tomorrow."

Then, surrounded by her friends (including a rather reluctant Cordelia), Buffy swept away across the courtyard, leaving Wesley standing dumb-struck in their wake.

She gave the Scooby gang the day off, which they accepted happily. After a quick sparring match with Xander behind the building, they went their separate ways. "Good night, guys!" chirped Willow, as she walked away with Oz.

"Good night, guys!" called Xander, as he walked off alone. They'd been unable to locate Cordelia, which suggested to Buffy that the girl was in the library for reasons she refused to contemplate.

"Good night, guys!" Buffy called, as they parted.

She walked home alone, humming to herself. She let herself in, to see her mother on the couch watching television.

Joyce started as she heard the door close, looking quickly over her shoulder. When she saw who it was, she smiled.

"Buffy! You're home early!"

Buffy smiled back. "Yeah. We just…felt like taking it easy for today."

"I'm glad," said Joyce, flashing a smile. She patted the couch beside her. "Do you have homework?"

Buffy shrugged. "Just a bit."

"Then why don't you sit a while? I mean, I know you're not that into _Steel Magnolias, _but…"

Buffy plopped down next to her mom. "Nah. Not really. But there are worse movies."

Joyce smiled. "Yeah. There are. The stories I could tell…would popcorn make it any less painful?"

Buffy bobbed her head. "Popcorn would make it much less painful."

Joyce nodded, then got up and walked into the kitchen. Buffy curled up on the couch, hugging a pillow and watching the movie.

_I've been home a grand total of five minutes…and it's already lookin' like a pretty good night._

* * *

Bets on how long it will remain a good night?


	10. Bitterness

Hopefully, this will be the last missed update for a while

* * *

It was a good night. Buffy and her mother chatted as the movie wound down. Then, Joyce made dinner while Buffy did her homework. For the first time in weeks, it looked like she might be prepared for the next school day.

Dinner consisted of hamburgers. Buffy took great pleasure in slathering hers with any condiment she could get her hands on, loving the feeling of the gooey mess dripping down her chin. Even over dinner, they talked. Buffy felt relaxed. Okay, the day had started badly. But, for once, she felt like a normal girl. And she was planning on enjoying that.

After dinner, she did more homework. She took great care in checking her answers. For once, she would be prepared.

She heard the door knock. Heard the door open. Heard the murmur of voices.

Heard her mother call her name up the stairs. "Buffy!"

"Yeah, mom?!"

"It's your school librarian. He says he needs to speak to you!"

Buffy froze.

Then, she slammed down her pencil, wrenched open the door, and stormed down the stairs like a vengeance demon. She crossed the room, grabbed Wesley's wrist, and pulled him back up the stairs to her room. She pushed him inside, slammed the door, and faced him with her arms folded. "You are one of the history books!" she growled. "And if you don't give me a real good explanation, you're gonna _be _history!"

Wesley worriedly adjusted his glasses. "I…I just…" he drew himself up. "I am aware that we were not on the same page during our last meeting, which should prove to you how complicated having friends in your life is, but…"

Buffy's glare deepened. Wesley flinched, but kept talking.

"Now, I make allowances for a certain amount of…reluctance on your part. I am certain that you and Mr. Giles were very close. But a Slayer needs a Watcher, and I am to be your new Watcher. There is nothing you can do to change this, Miss Summers. I am not asking that you like me, only that you respect me. As a Watcher…"

"Are you done?" asked Buffy sweetly.

Wesley swallowed. Buffy's fists clenched, and she took a threatening step towards him.

"Now you listen to me. You listen to me, you four-eyed stuffed-shirt. I have done more in two weeks than you've probably done in your entire pathetic life. I don't need you here and if I ever see you in that library again I might just need to break my rule about killing humans. I don't need a Watcher. I don't _want _a Watcher. Go. Home. Go home and tell your little Council this. If they dare to interfere in how I run things ever again I'll come over there myself and shove a stake where the sun doesn't shine! Are we clear?"

He attempted to stand his ground. "You, young lady, are out of control…"

Buffy pulled out a stake from a hidden location on her desk. She hefted it. "One."

"I am not afraid of you by any means…"

She advanced on him. "Two."

Wesley made a quick decision. He darted around her and wrenched open the door, getting out onto the landing and closing it behind.

Buffy exhaled, letting the stake fall to the carpet.

"Three," she said quietly.

She waited until she heard the door open and close again. Then, she sat down at her desk and tried to concentrate on her homework.

After half an hour, she gave up. It was no good. She was too wound up, too angry. So she got her shoes on, got her own meager supplies together, and opened her window in preparation for another trip to the library. If Wesley had the sense he was born with, he wouldn't show his face there again.

Buffy, one foot on the windowsill, felt a chill trickle down her spine as a realization crept over her.

If she, Buffy, had had the sense she was born with, she wouldn't have sent Wesley out into the night alone. Out into the night, where a former Watcher was waiting. A former Watcher who would know what was going on in town and loved any chance to hurt her…

She swore.

As much as she hated him, she couldn't leave him to a fate like that.

No time to stop by the library. He had a head start. No time. She might already be too late.

Buffy swung herself out the window, dropped to the ground, and ran for main street.


	11. Warning

Wesley heard his own breathing roar in his ears

My week has been crazy and chaotic, and I'm so sorry to my readers. So, double update. Please enjoy. And please bear with me. Very sorry.

Wesley heard his own breathing roar in his ears. Giles was looking at him in a predatory manor as Spike and Drusilla held him tightly against the alley wall. The look was in the manor of a butcher considering a cow en route to the slaughterhouse. It had been the work of less than a minute to ambush Wesley and drag him into the shadows. He struggled feebly, but Spike and Drusilla held him fast, pinning him against the hard concrete wall.

"So…" said Giles softly. "You're Buffy's new Watcher."

"That's right," said Wesley, attempting a semblance of bravery. "And she will not be far behind, so I suggest you release me if you wish to get away…"

Giles sighed. "You're bluffing," he said, sounding bored. "I've bluffed my way out of so many situations like this, and you're rubbish at it. She doesn't care about you."

Wesley swallowed, and Giles cast him an odd smile. "She's quite the girl, isn't she?" he continued. "She frustrates you, and flagrantly disobeys you. Yet, you find yourself following her. You give up the lead and are merely happy to lend useful advice. You give up nights of sleep and hours of productive work time, for nothing but the knowledge that this remarkable girl has lived through the night. And then something happens to you. You become the thing she hates. And all those feelings, all that love you had for her, change. And suddenly she's an annoying little girl who doesn't know when to quit. Who refuses to die. Who you would take great pleasure in snapping the neck of if only you could get your hands on her. Tell me…do any of these feelings sound familiar?"

Mutely, Wesley shook his head.

Again, the odd smile. "No. I suppose they don't. You're not a Watcher. You're a sniveling, pathetic excuse of a man who's just stumbled into hell." Slowly, agonizingly slowly, Giles walked over to Wesley. He changed into his hunting face, let his fangs show to the terrified man.

"Boss, if you're gonna eat him, can you get a move on?" asked Spike exasperatedly. "Only Dru and I haven't eaten yet."

Giles ignored him, and Wesley heard Spike sigh in frustration.

"You'll never be a Watcher." Giles was too close now. "So let's see if you can be useful in a…different career."

"Please…" Wesley whispered, shaking.

Giles heaved a sigh. "Yes. I do believe those were my last words as a man." He looked through Wesley, at Spike. "Tell me, did it do anything to change your mind?"

"Not a thing," said Spike.

Giles looked at Wesley, and nodded. "There. You see?"

Then, he sank his fangs into Wesley's neck. It was pain. It was utter agony. Wesley opened his mouth to scream, but no sound would come. He tried to struggle, but his limbs were growing even weaker. He was stuck there, stuck with the agonizingly disgusting sensation of having his blood sucked out into the throat of this monster…

His vision was already fading, and he didn't even register as the pain was suddenly gone. He felt himself falling, and knew no more.

_Beep…beep…beep…_

A familiar noise…a familiar, rhythmic noise. It was beeping every…half a second. Half a second. It had already beeped twenty times.

He was tired, and weak, and sick. But as his mind fired slowly into life, Wesley opened his eyes.

He was in a hospital room. At least, that was what he could tell through the blurred haze. Sunlight was coming in through the one window. The sunbeam fell across someone, sitting in the chair beside his bed. A vase of flowers sat in their lap. The sunlight fell on a head of blonde hair, and the figure looked…female. Maybe. His mind was too foggy to process much information.

"Hey. Welcome back," she said.

The voice was familiar enough, even to him, and confirmed the identity of his visitor…and his savior.

He opened his mouth, but only a croak emerged. He then registered that his mouth was covered by an oxygen mask. Buffy must have seen the realization in his eyes, because she patted him on the shoulder. "You have the blood count of Dracula on a diet, Wes," she said, not unkindly. "No talking." She settled the flowers on the table beside his bed, plucked his glasses off the table, slid them onto his face, and sat back, folding her arms in her lap. "I guess I was right. I…came to find you. I couldn't let you die." She smiled strangely. "I thought he'd come after you. Giles can be…like that. Kinda freakishly over-protective." She sighed. "Mom paid your bills. I called the gang. They send their…well, not their love. But they hope you get out soon. Take that any way that helps you sleep."

He managed to nod, trying to show that he was listening. Her voice was not unkind. As a matter of fact, this was the closest to kind she had sounded when speaking to him.

He was aware that she was still speaking, and hurriedly tried to grab the thread of the conversation again.

"…can't stay here. You can't. It's not just me. It's Giles, too. He won't like the idea of another Watcher, and he'll keep coming for you until he drinks you dry." She bit her lip. "Wesley…I've already lost two Watchers in my life. Two. How pathetic is that? I never told Giles that I had a Watcher before him. He died rather than become a vampire. He died to save me. And then less than three years later I turn around and kill my second Watcher. I…I can't go through that with anyone else. I _won't_. If you stay, you'll get killed. You're not cut out for this. And I can't take that. It's…it's not just that, either. Do you have any idea how much it hurt to lose Giles and then have him come back to try and rip my throat out? All the guilt and…and the pain…and…I cared about him. It's not just that. I _still _care about him. So that's why…I'm not letting anyone else take that place in my life. Not until I've sorted this out." She took a deep breath. "Not until Giles is gone for good. Go home, Wesley. If you want to help me, you'll go. Maybe in a few more months or…or a year, you can come back if that's what floats your boat. Maybe. But right here…right now…please, Wesley. Please go home."

She touched his hand, pleading in her eyes.

Then, she took off his glasses again, got up, and swept from the room without looking back, leaving Wesley to his murky thoughts.


	12. Wesley

He was amazed to get the few visitors he did over the next four days

He was amazed to get the few visitors he did over the next four days. Buffy's mother visited, to assure him that it was her pleasure to pay for his stay in the hospital. She was a worried woman, worried about the million and one things wrong with the world and most especially how they affected her daughter. But Wesley liked her. By the time she visited, he was able to carry on a limited conversation, and they had a nice talk. She brought him food, food that was by far and away better than the tasteless hospital fare.

One of Buffy's friends, the black-haired girl who introduced herself as Cordelia Chase, stopped by sporadically. He got the impression that she was the only one of the Scooby gang who cared at all that he'd been injured. He just wished that she would show her concern in ways other than yammering incessantly until the hospital staff dragged her out. The girl was attractive, no doubt about that, and there was a certain charm to her. But right then and there…

The red haired girl, who introduced herself as Willow, was better company. She brought him books. She very quietly wished him a quick recovery, and apologized for the chilly reception he'd received.

"It's not your fault," she'd said.

The blonde, who she called Oz, came in with her but said nothing. The last one, the one Buffy had called Xander, waited outside and said nothing to him.

He was in the hospital for four days until he was declared fit to leave with only a gauze bandage on his throat to show for his ordeal. Even then, he felt dizzy and tired as he got dressed and prepared to leave.

The staff delivered several suitcases to his door. When he asked, she said they'd been delivered by Buffy Summers. No explanation, no reasoning. Except the ones she'd given him that first night. _Please go home._

Once he remembered that, he wasn't even surprised to find a ticket back to England waiting for him at the reception desk. This time it had been delivered by Buffy's mother. It was due to leave that night, at seven o'clock.

Sadly, Wesley stared at the ticket, his luggage ranged around him.

"Do you have anyone who can come to pick you up, Mr. Pryce?" asked the receptionist worriedly.

"No…" said Wesley quietly. "There's no one."

He saw the pity in her gaze, the sadness and the knowledge that he was not the first with such a sad story. But she could also see that she was confused.

Because someone had brought his car to the hospital.

He watched, sitting on the curb, as some spare staff members loaded his stuff into the trunk. He felt…confused. He was being kicked out of Sunnydale, and Buffy had arranged the entire process so that he would be gone as soon as possible.

He felt that what he was going through was very cruel. He hadn't been here three days, and he was being kicked out by a girl he was supposed to be helping. A girl who was _supposed _to accept his help. A girl who had single-handedly upset the balance of the entire Slayer system, from what he'd been told. A girl who clearly required guidance and discipline but vehemently scorned them.

But a part of him, a far deeper part that sometimes marveled at how stupid the rest of him could be, felt that Buffy was being the mature one. That this was the kindest thing she could do for him. She was making this easy for him, when she didn't have to.

It didn't make him feel any better.

But being up and about seemed to be good for getting his energy back. By the time his car was loaded, it was a little after noon and he was fairly certain he could drive it without crashing into a tree.

So he did. He drove to Sunnydale airport, remembering bitterly that he'd gone through another twelve hour flight less than a week ago. After this, he'd be lucky to be able to endure planes ever again.

Even going through the entire long, drawn out process apparently designed by Americans to make plane trips as frustrating as possible, he had four hours before his flight left.

He spent it asleep. He slept fitfully, dreaming of vampires with gleaming fangs and closed doors. He dreamed of his father, looming over him as he lay bleeding on the ground. He dreamed of words he couldn't read and children who couldn't see him.

By the time someone shook him out of the nightmares, his row number was being called. Wesley jerked awake, and made a grab for the one suitcase he was taking with him on the plane. Someone pushed it nearer, and he gripped it tightly as he struggled to his feet and made for the gate.

Buffy watched him go, her expression solemn. She brushed her hair from her eyes, keeping her eyes locked on the Watcher as he fought his way through the crowds. With any luck, his biggest adventure on his way home would be getting a decent seat.

With any luck, if and when he came back he'd be a bit more prepared.

She thought he might have caught a glimpse of her, just before he turned the corner towards the plane. Just in case he had, she raised a hand in farewell.

She was pretty sure that she saw one raised in return.

Buffy waited until all the passengers had been loaded and the door had been closed. She waited until she saw the plane rising into the sky.

Then, she went home.


	13. Paper Flowers

The next week was a slow week

The next week was a slow week. The Scoobies returned to their routine, with no mention of Wesley apart from frequent grumblings on Cordelia's part about Buffy "kicking him out". Giles, Spike, and Drusilla showed up infrequently. Buffy supposed they had to be planning something. And when she learned what it was, she would stop it.

For now, she welcomed the break.

Apart from an incident involving the swim team, fish monsters, steroids, and Xander looking way too good in those little Speedo shorts, it was a slow week. So, for the first time in too long, Buffy found herself with time to breathe.

And she took advantage of that time to visit someone it felt like she hadn't seen for an eternity.

Flowers in hand, sun setting, she made for the Sunnydale Cemetery.

Numbly, dreamily, she picked her way through the crypts and graves, making for the lake in the center of the patch of land. She let her feet lead the way, because her mind had tried so desperately to forget this place was here.

She saw the glint of water.

She saw a shadowy figure, standing where her feet remembered the graves lay.

"Who ever heard of a vampire visiting his own grave?" Buffy sneered.

Slowly, Giles turned to face her. His hands were thrust deep in his pockets, and his face was normal. At the very least, he didn't appear to have come to hunt. "It's actually a fairly common practice. But who says it's my own grave that I'm visiting?"

He stepped aside, and she saw a bundle of red roses laid on Miss Calendar's grave. The same flowers he'd found on the night she died. The grave next to it, the grave that had held the body she was speaking too, looked forlorn and forgotten.

Buffy tightened her grip around her own bundle of flowers. Seeing the corpse beside its grave was a sickening sight.

Giles raised an eyebrow. "Oh. Are those for me?"

"No!" Buffy spat. She strode forward, refusing to look at the vampire as he watched her, and laid them gently on Giles' grave. "They're for my Watcher. Last I checked, you weren't my Watcher anymore." She straightened up and stared up at him with her fists clenched. "Now go away."

His face remained calm. "The last I checked, graveyards were public property. I have every right to be here."

Buffy folded her arms. "Then let me make this clear." She plunged her hand into her pocket and pulled out a cross. He recoiled, backing away. "Here's your eviction notice! Go away and leave me alone!"

He took several more steps back as she waved the cross in his face. Then, when he was far enough away to not feel its effects, he relaxed.

Buffy had planted herself next to Giles' grave, cross held straight out in front of her. She was resolved not to move until he did.

But Giles cast his gaze past her, to the patch of bare earth. "You filled in the grave?" he asked curiously.

"And re-consecrated it," said Buffy coldly. "Just because you vacated doesn't mean I want another corpse using it."

He smiled. "That was…kind of you. Pointless, but…kind."

The tone of voice was impossible to read, so Buffy didn't even try. "Why are you just visiting her grave?" she demanded, jerking her head towards Miss Calendar. "Why not just take away all this effort and turn her too?"

He shrugged. "By the time I thought of it…she'd been dead for far too long. All the blood had gone. She's probably decayed quite a bit, too."

Buffy shuddered. The words were said so calmly and even callously.

But then Giles stared at the headstone, and there was something all too familiar in the wistful expression that appeared on his face. "You think that just because I'm a vampire now I've forgotten her," he murmured. "But I haven't. Not a night goes by that I don't regret not being able to save her. That I don't remember her. She was a remarkable woman, Buffy."

"You don't have to tell me that. I always knew it. You were the one she didn't hit it off with right away."

He chuckled. "Yes, I suppose that's true. The first day we met, we wouldn't stop leaping at one another's throats."

_Unfortunate metaphor._

"But…I don't know. I never did know what it was. There was just something about her…" His head snapped up, some spell broken. His gaze fixed on her. "Are you going to keep holding that thing all night?"

"Just until you go away."

He jerked his head towards his own grave. "Anything you have to say to that patch of dirt can be said to me, can't it?"

Buffy's expression hardened. "No. It can't. Leave."

He sighed. "Very well." Turning, he strode away through the grass and into the shadows. "I suppose I'll see you around, Buffy. Have a good night."

Buffy waited until the sounds of his footsteps had faded into nothing…then she relaxed, and sat down next to the grave. The petals of her flowers fluttered forlornly in the soft wind. Miss Calendar's grave looked well kept. Even the sod looked new.

"I know I probably should have visited before. But…I guess you'd know. It's been…crazy. Very Hellmouth-ish. But this one wasn't spat out by the Hellmouth. I did this, Giles. It's my fault you're…up there, or wherever the hell you've gone. It's my fault that this demon is walking around in your body and pretending to _be _you." Buffy wiped at her eyes. "Being the Slayer sucks right now, you know?" Her voice was starting to crack. "Willow's doing her best and Xander's getting really good at throwing stakes and Oz is a werewolf and even Cordelia's helping out. But we're just kids, Giles! How could you expect us to handle this on our own? How could you expect _me _to handle the Slaying all alone? You're…you're not supposed to die!" She thumped the ground, sending dirt flying everywhere as tears poured down her cheeks and words she'd been keeping buried rushed out. "You're…you're supposed to do the research and let me beat you up for training and keep your cool and lie to me! You're not supposed to be laying under the dirt or sinking your fangs into innocent people! You're not supposed to do this to me, Giles! _You're not supposed to leave like you did!_"

She stayed there until she felt a tentative hand on her shoulder. The touch jerked her into action, and Buffy scrambled to her feet, pulling out her stake…

* * *

I had wanted to do this scene for a while. It's sorta traditional to visit graves, especially graves of loved ones. And I have the added effect of the corpse walking around with its own opinions.

Yuck.

Oh, and there was an important plot point in this chapter, which you will see in greater detail later.


	14. Willow Has A Plan

Willow squeaked and took several steps backwards. "Ah…hi."

Buffy exhaled and put the stake away. "Willow. Hi." She hurriedly wiped at her eyes, aware that they were still wet. "Sorry. Ran…ran into Giles…kinda got my hackles up. What's goin' on?"

Willow produced a small bundle of flowers from behind her back. "Great minds think alike?" she asked timidly.

Buffy smiled. "I guess they do."

Willow inched past Buffy and laid her flowers next to the Slayer's bundle. Then, her attention was caught by the roses. She smiled grimly. "Oh. Miss Calendar. Inside joke. Nice."

"Like I said," said Buffy bitterly. "I ran into Giles."

Willow winced. "Ooh. Well…it was kinda that whole messy situation that I wanted to talk to you about."

"Really?"

"Yeah." Willow took Buffy's arm and started leading her away from the graves. "It's…kind of a long story. Remember when Spike was chasing me, and…and I had to hide while you and Xander fought him off?"

"…yeah?"

"Well, it turns out that I was hiding in Miss Calendar's old classroom. I hid under the desk, and as I was crawling under there I saw a floppy disk that had fallen down the side. So the next morning I picked it up, 'cause I'd…I'd kind of been going through some of her stuff. Just her magic stuff, 'cause she had a pretty extensive collection. And so I could…get stuff in order for her. So I ran the program, and…" She looked at Buffy, her eyes intense and urgent. "Buffy, I'll understand if you don't want to go through with it. We all will. He wouldn't be the same, he'd be way different, but…"

Buffy felt her heart skip. "Willow…what did you find? What did Miss Calendar find?"

Willow smiled nervously. "I…I think she was going to try it on Angel the night we…the night she died. But…it's the spell. The curse. To restore a vampire's soul."

Buffy's jaw dropped. "Are…are you kidding me?!"

Willow shook her head. "Nope."

Buffy hugged her friend so hard that Willow almost fell over. "Willow, you're amazing! When can we do it?!"

Willow smiled. "Well…tonight, if you want. I…I took the liberty of stopping by the magic shop, in case you said yes. That's…kind of why we're headed back to the library."

Buffy stared up at the sky, her mind buzzing with possibilities. "Wow…we could have Giles back."

"We could have Giles back."

Buffy smiled. "I…have a lot of stuff I wanna say to him. The real him."

"Me, too."

"And the very first thing…"

"Yeah?"

"I'm gonna apologize until I'm blue in the face. The very second thing…"

"Yeah?"

"I'm gonna beat him up until he apologizes to _me_."

"Sounds good."

As the two Scoobies walked, Spike strode out from behind a mausoleum. He watched them vanish into the darkness, his eyebrows raised so high that they were in danger of disappearing into his head.

"Give the boss back his soul?" he mused quietly. "Ooh, dear. I don't think Dru would like that. She's quite attached to her new Daddy. I'd better go break the news."

* * *

Drusilla took the news quite badly. Whimpering softly, her bottom lip trembling, she leaned her head against Spike's shoulder. "No, Spike, no…" she moaned. "The bad Slayer can't take Daddy from us…"

"I know," said Spike grimly. "I thought Angelus was bad. This ponce is bad, too, but he's _inventive _about it. He was inventive about it as a human!"

"I love Daddy…" Drusilla whimpered.

"I know, pet," said Spike soothingly, running his fingers through Drusilla's hair. He'd been amazed but he'd come to the conclusion that, alive or dead, Giles needed someone to look after. Alive, that had been Buffy. Dead, it was now Drusilla. He treated them much the same, and Drusilla had taken to him like a rat took to a big hunk of cheese. He'd started _training _her, for God's sake! In _weapons_! And Drusilla was proving very, very good with them. Spike hadn't heard her call _anyone _Daddy _and mean it_ in their entire relationship.

Giles himself had returned from his trip (to where, Spike did not know) about twenty minutes ago, and had been in an irritatingly good mood. Whatever he'd been researching round the clock for a week was apparently going well, and he'd mentioned something about getting a "crucial ingredient". Spike didn't know what the hell was going on, and suspected that he wouldn't until it was underway, but Giles _had _filled in Drusilla on the details. Whatever was going on, it had put Drusilla in a fabulous mood. She hummed softly to herself whenever she wasn't speaking, remembering old lullabies from her time as a human. Her voice was higher, lighter, breathier. Drusilla was in a _very _good mood.

He clapped his hands. "Well, then," he said. "We'll just have to stop them from taking 'Daddy', now won't we? A nice round of ripping their throats out should show our displeasure, don't you think, Dru?"

Drusilla nodded eagerly. "Yes, oh yes." She straightened up, suddenly motherly and attentive. "My Spike has such good ideas. Come. We must hurry."

Spike clicked his fingers. "To the school!"

At that moment Giles came out of the mansion's library, cleaning his glasses distractedly.

"Why are you going to the school at this late hour?" he asked.

"Gonna crash a party," said Spike innocently.

"The Slayer is being very naughty!" said Drusilla anxiously. "Not sweet and polite like me." She smiled dreamily, showing off her fangs. "Do you love me, Daddy?"

He looked up, and smiled at her. "Of course I do, Drusilla."

"Then maybe you'd like to join us?" asked Spike. "Because your Slayer and her mates are going to try a little hocus-pocus in an hour or so. They're gonna try and give you back your soul."

Giles…paused.

Then, he slid his glasses onto his face and re-entered the library. The two vampires watched him go, feeling nonplussed. Then, Spike shrugged.

"Ah, well. Old folks need their rest. Shall we, Dru?"

Drusilla nodded, and started towards the door. Spike reached for the knob. Giles, appearing apparently out of nowhere, reached past him and opened the door. Spike and Drusilla stared at him…and the man jingled the keys of his Citroen in front of them.

"Of course I'd like to join you," he said. "I just thought we could get there a bit faster by driving. As a matter of fact, I have some business at the school myself…"


	15. Run

Much thanks to my reviewers. I'll try and reply soon, but as it is I barely have time to update!

* * *

Buffy paced before the library door. She held a large double-headed battle ax in her hands, with a stake jammed into her belt on each side. Willow, Xander, Oz, and Cordelia prepared the spell.

Willow sat Indian-style on the table as Xander dispersed a large jar of colored sand to her directions, forming mystic and arcane patterns on the floor. Oz paced around the four large braziers set at each corner of the table, occasionally adding a pinch of this and a dash of that to their contents. Cordelia thumbed through Willow's notes, organizing which page was needed and which was not.

In her hands, Willow clutched a small glass orb. Buffy had seen it dozens and dozens of times in Giles' office. He'd been using it as a paperweight, of all things. This dusty, spun glass sphere that held her Watcher's soul. According to Willow, the spell to summon his soul had been easy. It would be the spell to put it back that would be the tricky part.

She remembered how Willow had shown it to her on the way to the library, told her that the smoky, glittery smoke inside the glass _was_ Giles.

"_Isn't it kind of cramped in there?" she'd asked._

_Willow had shrugged. "Probably. But if all goes well, he'll be back in his old body soon."_

_Buffy had tapped on the glass, feeling like a visitor to an acquarium. She had suddenly wanted to say something, and had immediately felt foolish. Giles couldn't hear her._

_Soon, however, he would. He would be able to hear her gripe and complain, and tell him how deliriously grateful she was to have him back._

Provided, of course, that the night went as planned.

She knew that itnever, ever did.

But she also knew that she wanted her Watcher back.

"Will, how much longer?"

"I need to finish this up," said Xander. "It's harder than it looks, ya know."

"I'm about done," said Oz, dusting off hands and pulling out a box of matches.

"And this is the best we're gonna get," said Cordelia, neatening up the stack of papers she'd arrived at.

"Any sign of trouble?" asked Willow nervously.

Buffy shook her head, and glanced out of the door's windows. "If our three fangy friends make an appearance, you'll be the first to know," she said. "When I start screaming."

Xander grimaced as he distributed the last of the sand. "Well, here's to things going smoothly…"

Cordelia snorted. Xander ignored her and capped the jar of sand. He looked at Buffy, his eyes grave.

"I think…we're ready," he said quietly.

Buffy nodded and strode to one of the braziers, dropping the ax at her feet. Xander, Oz, and Cordelia each took up station at another one. Willow sat in the middle of the formation, holding the Orb of Thesulah almost reverentially in both hands. Reading from the paper in her lap, she started to chant.

"_Nici mort nici al finite,_

_Te invo, spirit al tercerii_

_Reda trupului ce separa omul de anim…"_

"You know what I love about these wide-open rooms?" asked a voice cheerfully, right in her ear.

Buffy reacted on instinct. She whirled around, grabbing for the ax.

Spike, on his feet for the first time in three months, grabbed the wrist and twisted it painfully, shoving Buffy to the ground. When she'd looked up, the vampire had leveled a crossbow on her.

"Three words," said Spike. "Room. To. Maneuver."

Willow screamed as Drusilla launched herself from the elevated space, fully vamped out. Panicking, the girl fled the space. Xander, Oz, and Cordelia staggered back as the force of the spell emptied itself on them, lost.

Buffy rolled over, grabbed her stake, and lunged at Spike.

Spike brought up both feet and kicked out. Buffy smacked into the opposite wall as Oz rushed past, stake in hand, for Drusilla. Xander had grabbed a sword.

Buffy's heart leapt into her throat. "Xander, put that down!" They hadn't covered swords yet!

Xander spared a grin for her. "How hard can it be?" He rushed Drusilla, but the vampire stepped around the swing and caught the blade effortlessly. She stared in apparent fascination as a ribbon of her own blood trickled down her pale arm.

"Pretty," she said dreamily, then twisted so that the blade bent at a right angle. She wrenched the sword out of Xander's grip and flung it boomerang-like across the room. Spike was forced to duck as it whizzed over his head.

"Careful, pet!" he called.

"Of course, Spike!" said Drusilla sweetly. She turned to Oz, and let out a little purr as the werewolf closed the distance between them. "Ooh, I like this one…"

She stepped neatly around Oz and grabbed both of his arms. "He's sweet," she purred in his ear, before twisting both arms so forcefully that Oz spun sideways before hitting the ground.

Cordelia kept her distance and heaved a chair at Spike. Spike ducked, looking indignant. "Oy!" He leveled his weapon at her. "Cheap shots are my department, thank you so very much!"

Buffy planted both hands between Spike's shoulder blades and shoved, sending Spike to the floor. She grabbed the ax and rounded on the scene. "Xander! Willow! Oz! Cordy! _Run!_"

"But Buffy…" cried Willow, who was already scrabbling around the floor, looking for something to fight with.

"Run away!" Buffy screamed desperately. "I can handle them! Get home and stay there, because Giles won't be far behind! Please, guys, run!"

Cordelia didn't need telling twice as Spike successfully loosed a bolt at her. She ducked and sprinted for the doors. Xander appeared to make a decision. He hurled another chair at Drusilla, which she swatted in half, and took to his heels. "Catch me if you can, princess!" he called over his shoulder.

Oz hurried over to Willow, helping her to her feet. As the girl stood, she gasped as fragments of powdered glass fell from her hands. "Oh, no…"

"He'd want us to go," said Oz in a low voice. Willow nodded hurriedly and together werewolf and witch raced from the room.

Drusilla licked her lips. "Fast food," she said, and giggled at her own little joke.

"Leave it, Dru," said Spike, heaving himself back into his wheelchair. "Boss said he wants the Slayer."

Drusilla bobbed her head. "Of course. And what Daddy wants…" she lunged suddenly at Buffy, who backhanded her aside only just in time. "…Daddy gets."

* * *

One by one, the Scoobies broke away from the group. They broke away as they passed their houses, each dashing up the driveway to the relative safety their own homes would give them against the vampires. Cordelia first. Then Oz. Then Willow. Then Xander. Willow did not want to go, did not want to leave Xander to run the last leg of their deadly race alone. Xander stood firm. Willow would slow him down, because he would worry about her. Better that she be safe. Better that he be on his way alone.

Willow watched him run off into the night, praying to whatever god in heaven that he made it home safely. That, when the dawn came, he would still be there.

* * *

We're into _Becoming _territory here, folks...except no one's been captured (yet) or killed (possibly). The next batch of chapters are gonna be rough.


	16. Bleeding and Fleeing

Spike and Drusilla hurtled through the doors, out into the night. They dashed down the street, not slowing. They ran until they reached the corner, where a gray Citroen was pulling up with its headlights on. The two vampires wrenched open the backdoors and fell inside, panting.

"Bit too much for you?" asked Giles cheerfully from the front seat. Spike made a rude hand gesture at the man as he straightened himself.

"Sod off. I didn't notice you jumping in," he growled.

"That's because I had more important things to do," said Giles, turning the Citroen around and driving back the way he'd come. "I _do _need Buffy…but not just yet. Things will work out so much better if we have a little…insurance."

Spike, despite his indignation, couldn't suppress a grin. He let himself change. "Yeah? And would this insurance take the form of four human brats?"

"I do believe it would," said Giles. He pointed ahead of them. "First stop is a visit to miss Cordelia Chase. Do try and behave yourselves."

--

Buffy regained consciousness slowly.

It felt like her head was bleeding.

Of course, a couple of bookshelves had been pushed on her. So…she gingerly touched the spot…yeah. Her head was bleeding.

With an almighty effort, she crawled out from under the bookshelves. Unsteady and feeling nauseous, she stumbled to her feet.

Why was she still alive? Spike and Drusilla had had her, the Slayer, at their mercy. Why had they cut and run?

She felt a thrill of fear.

Maybe they'd been ordered to. By someone well used to exerting influence and guidance over unruly teenagers.

Buffy shivered, only partially from her wound. If Giles wanted her alive, it was for a reason. Giles had been a very methodical person, and was a very methodical vampire. He was big on reasons…and whatever reason was keeping Buffy alive almost certainly wasn't a pleasant one.

But if she'd been given a reprieve, she supposed she should take advantage of it.

Just to be safe, she grabbed her ax from the floor and Angel's cross from where it lay discarded on the stairs. Then, praying that her reprieve was genuine, she limped out into the night.

She met no one. It was late at night and the streets were nearly deserted. There were drunks and late-night revelers. A few tried to give her trouble but, even in her weak state, Buffy made them regret it.

She tried the doorknob of her house, and found it locked. Groaning in misery, she staggered around to the tree outside her window. One-handed, she scaled its branches, fumbled open her window, and heaved herself into her room. Unheeded, the ax clattered to the floor as she stumbled to the bathroom.

"First aid kit…" she mumbled blearily. Her Slayer regeneration should prevent the injury from being life-threatening, but it still felt like her brains might start leaking in a second. She found it, and reached for it. But her hands were trembling, and the white box went tumbling to the floor with a crash.

She winced as she heard her mom jolt awake in the next room.

"Buffy? Buffy, what's wrong?"

"Nothing, mom!" Buffy called, then mentally cursed at how her voice slurred. She heard her mother get out of bed and, in a moment, she was in the bathroom doorway, tying her bathrobe. "Buffy?"

Buffy saw her mother's eyes drift towards the blood on her scalp. She saw her eyes widen. In a blur Joyce had grabbed the first aid kit, expertly put it back together, and sat Buffy down on the floor facing away from her. "Buffy Anne Summers! What happened?"

"I…fell. While I was…dreaming."

"Oh, honey," said Joyce, sitting down behind her and setting to work treating the wound. "I'm so sorry…"

"Mom, it's fine," said Buffy. The words were almost drowned out by a yawn. God, she was tired! "It's nothing…"

"Buffy, I think you should go to the hospital…"

"Mom, I'm okay…"

She heard her mother smile. "Such a little trooper. You were always that way. I practically had to give you a cookie before you'd tell me you were hurt. I wonder where you got so stubborn? Certainly not from your father."

Buffy opened her mouth to deliver some suitably snappy reply…and then paused.

_She sat at the library table, her arm dangling uselessly and painfully at her side. Giles sorted through a first aid kit. She hadn't even known one was here._

"_It should sort itself out fairly quickly, but breaks can be a bit harder to heal than flesh wounds," he said, without looking up. "Bones usually need a little assistance to knit properly." He cast her an intense look. "Although, we could be sure of it if you went to the hospital…"_

_She waved her good hand dismissively. "Pointless. I've shrugged off worse. Anyway, my Mom's way less likely to notice a few bandages than an entire cast. I'm not _that _good of a liar, Giles."_

_He smiled. "No, you're really not."_

_She held out an arm imperiously for the bandages, which he gave her, along with a long piece of wood that looked like it had been intended to be a stake. Buffy attempted to bind her arm…and found that, with one hand, it was difficult. She looked up to see Giles staring at her, smiling very slightly._

"_You have no idea what the wood is for, do you?" he asked._

_She felt herself flush. "Why?"_

"_It's a splint. You're supposed to tie your arm to it so it doesn't move."_

_She flushed even more. "Oh…I knew that."_

"_Of course you did. And bandaging usually works easier with two working hands."_

_She scowled at him. "I don't _have _two working hands."_

"_In case you hadn't noticed…I do."_

"_Yeah…well…" She paused…then sighed. "Fine. I get it. I'm gonna lose the argument."_

_He laughed. "For once, yes."_

_He moved his chair next to hers, and set to work setting the splint and binding her arm with an expertise that said he'd done this many times before. She remembered what she'd learned of his "past life"…and supposed that he probably had._

Giles makes it better. So what else is new? _she thought fondly._

"_It's strange," he said, as he finished the bandaging five minutes later._

_She flexed the arm experimentally. "What's strange? That I got my butt kicked by a drunk vampire?"_

_He made a noncommittal noise. "Well, that too. It's just…there's something about humans. Something that makes us want to keep our pain inside. Even when help is right in front of us, so many reject it." He caught her eye, and made a face. "Of course, I know you have absolutely no interest in hearing me wax philosophical."_

_She smiled. "Sorry." Then, she got to her feet. "Maybe some other time, Giles. But I gotta get home."_

"_Of course. You should be able to take it off after a few more days. Until then, perhaps Angel should patrol with you…"_

_She was already walking, and waved over her shoulder in acknowledgement. "Yeah, yeah. And Giles?" She paused, hand on the door, and glanced over her shoulder. "…thanks."_

"Buffy?"

Joyce peered around into her daughter's face. Buffy's eyes were closed, her breathing even. Joyce realized that, as she'd treated the wound, Buffy had drifted off to sleep.

The injury had looked nasty, but from Joyce's experience it didn't appear to be a concussion.

With a strength she had forgotten she possessed, mother picked up daughter and carried her back into her room. Joyce settled Buffy in the girl's own bed and pulled the covers up to her chin.

"Sweet dreams, honey," she said, kissing her on the forehead.

Then, she went downstairs and called the hospital.

--

A fine trace of glass dust still clung to her clothes. Mournfully, Willow swept it into the garbage can.

A little over a single line. A little over a single line had stood in the way of having Giles back. The _real _Giles. Not the vicious, murderous, cruel monster. The Watcher, the Watcher who watched out for Buffy and watched out for them and made sure they were safe and took care of things…

But she'd seen Drusilla and she'd panicked. She'd blown it. She knew Buffy would forgive her, because Buffy was Buffy. But Willow knew it would be many, many weeks before she herself would forgive the mistake.

She supposed they could try again. The man who had run the shop selling the Orb of Thesulahs had recently been found dead of a mysterious puncture wound in his neck. It was as good a notice as any that Spike, Drusilla, and Giles did not approve of that course of action. But there were plenty of people who'd be willing to sell an Orb, especially when most did not know how to use them.

But for tonight, she was tired. She was tired from the casting. Tired from running. Tired from explaining to her mother why she'd dashed into the house sweaty and scared like a bat out of hell. Her mother had bought the excuse about muggers, and had been worried for once…but more worried about "the state this town is coming to" then the fate of Willow and her friends. She had gone into such a rant of righteous indignation that Willow had been able to slip upstairs. She'd changed into her pajamas, brushed her teeth, and brushed her hair. Now, she sat on her bed, watching cartoons. She wanted to sleep, wanted desperately to sleep…but she also wanted news. News of her friends.

Eventually, she muted the television and started flipping through some of Miss Calendar's old books that she'd started taking care of. Maybe there was something else they could try. Maybe, hopefully, please, please…

A knock at the door made Willow jerk, exhaling sharply. "Who is it?!" she called desperately.

"It's your mother! Who else would it be?"

"O-Oh…"

"Willow, I just thought you should know that someone's here to see you."

Willow felt her heart skip. "W-Who is it?" she stammered, her mouth suddenly dry.

"Well, come and see for yourself!" said her mother exasperatedly. "I didn't go to college for four years to be a messenger!"

Willow rolled her eyes and marked her page. "Okay, Mom. I-I'm coming."

She heard her mother descend the stairs. She took a deep breath, steadying herself. It might not be Spike. It could be Xander. Could be Oz. Could be Buffy.

Could be Giles.

That thought was enough to make her grab a cross from her nightstand.

She swallowed hard, then carefully opened the door and padded over to the top step, where she could see the door. Her mother was conversing with someone, but that someone was standing far enough back so that she couldn't see.

"Mom, who is it?" she called worriedly.

"It's your school librarian, Willow. Mr. Giles, wasn't it?"

"That's right."

Willow felt her blood run cold. She leapt down three steps, staring with wide eyes.

It was, indeed, Giles, standing just outside the threshold. But as she watched in terror, her mother stepped aside. "Please, come…"

"_No!!" _Willow screamed.

Willow's mother looked up at her, irritated. "Willow! Mind your manners!" She turned to Giles. "Please, come in."

Giles stepped over the threshold. "Thank you, ma'am."

He backhanded her so hard that her mother's head almost turned in a full circle. She hit the wall and fell limp. When Giles looked up at Willow, his face had morphed.

"Your turn," he said quietly.


	17. Three Strikes, You're Out

Willow screamed, and hurled her cross at him before turning and running up the stairs full-speed. She heard Giles snarl and bound after her, but by that time Willow was already in her room. She slammed the door shut and locked it, and had just gotten her chest of drawers in front of it when she heard Giles hit it. The drawers did no good, he still punched straight through the wood. With a swipe of his hand, he ripped a large chunk of it away.

Willow panicked. She ran for her patio door, wrenched it open, and dashed out into the night.

She dashed into the waiting arms of Spike.

"Hello there, sweet," he said cheerfully. "I do believe you've taken a wrong turn."

Willow beat at him, but Spike held firm. He swept her up into his arms, bridal style. "I'd stop thrashing around," he said. "Boss wants you alive, but I don't think he'd hesitate to rip your arms off."

"You're quite right," said Giles, stepping over the threshold. He massaged his knuckles. "Damn, I'm out of shape. Spike, take her to the car. I'm sure Xander, Cordelia, and Oz are…quite anxious to see her."

"Right-o!"

Before Willow knew it, her wrists and ankles had been tied together and she'd been shoved into the back of the old Citroen, crammed between the door and Oz. Xander was on the werewolf's other side.

"Willow," Oz whispered.

"Oz," Willow croaked. "What's going on?"

"He's rounding us up," Xander put in. "When he grabbed me, I thought I was just a meal. Guess we've been officially upgraded. We're 'bait'."

"Buffy bait?" asked Willow, scarcely daring to believe it. This was _Giles_, he would not hurt them and he would _never, ever _hurt Buffy…even as a vampire, a part of her still clung to those unspoken rules.

But Oz nodded solemnly. "Buffy bait."

"Where's Cordy?"

"They shoved her in the trunk. He said something about not wanting her yapping all the way back to the base."

They heard murmured voices outside, then the front doors opened. Spike got into the driver's seat, Drusilla in the passenger's side.

"Your leader making you do the grunt work?!" Xander demanded.

"He wanted to deliver the message to the Slayer personally," said Spike over his shoulder. "I'd sort of like to see her face, but he promised that Dru and I could eat all of you later, so I don't mind all that much."

Willow whimpered and pressed closer to Oz. Spike laughed as he turned the car on and shot away, down the street.

They'd been driving for twenty minutes when Willow noticed Oz moving beside her. Straining to see them without moving their eyes, she had to suppress a gasp.

Xander had managed to shift his wrists and ankles nearer to Oz, while keeping them out of sight of the two vampires. Head bowed, Oz bit and chewed the ropes, teeth working furiously.

Wanting to help, Willow started to let out loud, choking sobs, hoping the noise would mask the subtle sound of fraying rope. She saw Oz's eyes flick to her, saw the gratitude, and her boyfriend kept working.

It happened quickly. It _had _to happen quickly. Xander, free of his bonds, wrenched open the door and hit the ground as the car shot along the street at sixty miles an hour. Willow screamed as he rolled over and over, growing smaller and smaller as the car continued driving.

"_Dammit!"_ Spike yelled, punching the dashboard. _"You bleeding…"_

Drusilla acted. Morphing, she pushed open her door and leapt out, landing lightly on the road. The last thing Willow saw before they were lost from sight was Drusilla, bounding easily after Xander's frantically running form.

"You three are gonna pay for that!" Spike snarled, his own face morphing out of anger. _"Count on it!"_

Honetly, the next few chapters were the hardest to right. I guess _Becoming _was so defined that it resists rewrites. Feel free to point out my errors. I'll try and get around to fixing them after I get done.

* * *


	18. Prophecy

She was in a big room, a room littered with toys. Old toys, toys a little child would love, but she loved them just the same. She sat at a piano, dreamily tapping out a song with absolutely no regard to tune. Mr. Gordo sat on top of the piano, sniffing the air interestedly. Her stuffed pig sang, in a high-pitched, breathy voice.

_"All around the mulberry bush, the monkey chases the weasel…_

_The monkey says it's all in good fun."_

Buffy joined him on the familiar last line.

_"_Pop_ goes the weasel!"_

She giggled like a child.

"Very…um…nice," said a voice.

Buffy turned, looking towards the doorway of the room. She beamed. "Hey, Giles! Your fangs are gone!"

He walked into the room, adjusting his glasses. He looked like he'd just run a great distance. He looked winded. "Ah, yes, but…um…that's really no longer the issue."

"How did you like my song?" asked Buffy. She felt dreamy and peaceful and, for once, content. She was also blissfully unconcerned with him. Even coming face-to-face with the one who had, for the past two months, been trying to kill her was nothing to worry her. Here, she was safe. Here, she could be happy.

"It was very nice, but…"

"I can play others. Do you want to hear?"

"No, not right now. Now is really not the time, Buffy."

Buffy…frowned. Something was interfering with the peace of the room. Something was wrong.

And that something had been brought in by Giles.

"Are you gonna try and kill me again?" she asked suspiciously. Despite her suspicion, her voice stayed light, young, dreamy.

"No!" said Giles hurriedly. "No, of course not! But Buffy, you're…"

_Want me to destroy him, Buffy?_ asked Mr. Gordo.

Buffy…shook her head. She could see behind Giles, see outside the door he'd opened. It was dark. It was very dark.

She was the Slayer. Her job was to fight the dark.

Slowly, she got up from the table and walked over to him. She looked up at him, suddenly cold and serious.

"What's the deal?"

"Your friends. They're in danger."

"So what else is new?"

He gripped her shoulders. "Buffy, this is _serious_."

She pointedly removed his hands. She could see over his shoulder, see shadows creeping into the room, making it dark and cold. "Again with the 'what else is new'?"

He sighed in apparent frustration. "Buffy, I wish I could tell you more, but I can't! I can barely appear here! I can barely see what's going on! This is honestly all I know! I'm not…" he gestured helplessly at himself. "I'm not…all…here…"

"So where else are you?"

He smiled bitterly. "I wish I knew."

"My friends are always in danger, Giles. What's changed?"

"You're the Slayer. You can see more than I can."

_And suddenly, she did. She saw Drusilla, dancing among flames and laughing. She saw Spike, running from shadows. She saw Giles, the light of rage in his eyes. She saw Oz screaming and Willow bleeding. She saw Xander, running…running…_

_Running through the streets of Sunnydale, Drusilla at his heels._

_But the dream didn't stop there. She saw a sword, flashing steel in an unholy light. She saw a statue of a great, horned demon, its fanged maw agape._

_She saw her own blood, sticking to her fingers._

* * *

Buffy sat up gasping as the dream shattered.

But, like all her prophetic dreams, it was harsh and vivid in her mind.

Willow. Oz.

Xander.

Still in her pajamas, Buffy swung herself out of bed, jammed her feet into some sneakers, grabbed a stake and Angel's cross, checked her head for bleeding, and swung herself out the window and into the night. She tore down the street, past the few who would still be out at such an early hour.

"Xander! _Xander!_"

Not Xander. Oh god, not Xander. She'd already lost Angel, lost Giles…she couldn't lose Xander.

A crowd was up ahead, stretched across the entire road from sidewalk to sidewalk, blocking the entire street. Buffy tried to shove through them, and tripped over something laying on the ground.

When she managed to push herself up, rubbing her nose, she saw that she'd tripped over a corpse. No fang marks, but his neck had been snapped.

Buffy swallowed.

From what she could gather in a frantic few minutes of questioning, they'd heard cries for help. A few people had called the police. Some of those who arrived only got wounded. Most wound up dead, killed by a single woman who'd slaughtered them without care.

Several ordinary people had tried to step in after that.

Drusilla had killed them all.

"Xander…"

No one knew where the one in trouble had gone.

Xander had come this way.

But where was he?

She pushed herself away from the wall where she was digesting the information, gripping her stake.

_I'm not gonna lose anyone else._

She plunged into the alley beside her. Creeping quietly, she looked left and right for any hint of a shadow. Any hint of her quarry.

Any hint of her friend.

She passed a dumpster. A pair of tennis shoes lay discarded beside them…

She stopped.

_Tennis shoes don't twitch._

Buffy moved. She had a brief view of a figure crouched in front of her, holding someone else that was whimpering faintly. Buffy gripped the figure's shoulder, preparing to stake…

In a blur, Drusilla had pulled away from Xander, grabbed Buffy's arm, and twisted it away. She grinned. A trickle of Xander's blood dripped down her chin.

"Would you like some?" she purred.

Buffy gritted her teeth. "Go…to…hell."

Drusilla slowly got to her feet, dusting off her dress while keeping a grip on Buffy's arm. Buffy brought her other arm around, intending to punch the vampire's lights out. Drusilla grabbed her fist effortlessly.

"You first," she said sweetly.


	19. I Hate You

Buffy kicked, and this time Drusilla didn't stop her. She hit her foe hard in the ribs, knocking Drusilla back. The vampire tripped over Xander, but was on her feet in a bound. Buffy lunged, stake in one hand and cross in the other. Drusilla lashed out with her long fingernails, but Buffy blocked so that the claws cut her sleeve rather than her face. She ducked in under Drusilla's arm and jammed Angel's cross into her opponent's throat. Drusilla let out a little muffled scream and pulled away, backing to the end of the alley and clutching her neck.

"Daddy will get you for that!" she spat, before turning and fleeing.

_Daddy?_ Buffy wondered, before the more immediate problem brought itself back to her attention. _Xander!_

"Xander!" Buffy cried, dropping down next to him. Blood trickled from two wounds on his neck, and his skin was shockingly pale. He tried to focus on her with half-open eyes.

"Buff…" he croaked.

* * *

"Out you go!" declared Spike, bodily heaving Willow out of the car. She let out a little cry of pain, and in response Oz growled at Spike as the vampire extricated him from the old Citroen, as well.

"I don't know what the boss was thinking," Spike muttered, tossing Oz on the ground beside Willow and giving him an absent-minded kick. "Locking up a werewolf the night before he changes, I ask you. Is there no common bloody sense left in this bloody world?"

"Will," Oz whispered, as Spike moved to the trunk to remove Cordelia. "Will, I'm sorry…I would have let you go, too, but Xander's fast and we need Buffy…"

Willow managed to smile weakly. "Don't worry. Xander will get Buffy, and Buffy will rescue us."

Oz smiled back. "Yeah. Buffy will."

A thump and a very loud and vicious expletive told Willow that Cordelia had been dumped beside them.

"Temper, temper," said Spike. "Damn, boss is still out…and Dru…she knows not to play with her food."

He picked Willow up first. Willow let out a squeak of terror, and Oz bared his teeth up at the vampire.

"Settle down, Fluffy," said Spike disdainfully, carrying Willow up the driveway to an old, weathered mansion. "You'll get your turn."

"W-W-What are you going to do to us?" Willow demanded, as Spike kicked open the double front doors.

"Eat you, eventually. But boss says he's got plans for you, so…until then, you room in here."

He dumped her unceremoniously in a side-room, slamming the door and locking it behind him. The room was dark, and filthy. Willow lay, trying not to panic, as she was left in shadows and silence.

A couple of minutes later, the door was opened again and Cordelia was dumped on top of her. Just as the two of them managed to wriggle off of each other, Oz was thrown in after them.

Spike stood, outlined by the moonlight coming in through the single, high window.

"Sleep tight, children. You're going to have quite the night tomorrow."

* * *

Buffy pressed two fingers to his mouth. "Ssh...don't talk. Stay with me. I'm going to get you help."

She picked him up, thanking whatever god in heaven for her Slayer strength.

It was the work of a few brief moments to secure Xander an ambulance. Buffy knew that her own desperate appearance probably went a long way to getting Xander a spot. A tear-stained teenager (effortlessly) supporting a friend, entreating the surgical staff to help him and illuminated by the light of many sirens.

_Right out of a movie. The effect probably isn't so good with the pajamas, though._

It wasn't good enough to secure her a spot with him. Sadly, Buffy watched the ambulance drive away…then, when it was out of sight, she trudged after it.

A little shiver ran up her spine as she cleared the crowds. She paused, fists clenching. Her stake was still in her pocket. Attempting to make the move casual, she slowly slid her hand into the pocket.

Another hand grabbed her wrist, keeping it there.

A _cold _hand.

"Don't move," Giles murmured. "If you do, I will bite."

"What's stopping you?" Buffy murmured back.

"What's stopping me is that I have plans in motion, Buffy. Plans that will work so much better if you're alive…but just as well if you're dead. Your friends are at the old mansion on the edge of town. You will come tomorrow, at sunset."

"What's stopping me from going now?"

Giles made a faintly noncommittal noise. "Well, the fact that my fangs are less than six inches from your neck might be a point to consider. Besides, you'll want to check on Xander, won't you?"

Buffy ground her teeth. "I hate you," she whispered.

"I know," said Giles cheerfully. "Tomorrow night, Buffy. Sunset. Don't be late."

Buffy's fists clenched. "Trust me. I won't be. And when I show up, I'm gonna stake you."

She almost _heard _him smile.

"We'll see," he said. "Tell me, Buffy…are you prepared if a vampire comes at you like _this!_"

She whirled around, gripped his throat, and pushed him back just as his fangs touched her skin. They stood, facing eachother, amidst the sirens and the crowds and the death.

"Get out of here," she growled.

Just like that first night at Willow's, his face returned to its human semblance. He smiled at her, nodded, and turned away. Buffy watched him, as he vanished among the people. He looked so ordinary.

"_I hate you!"_ she yelled after him.

He waved over his shoulder, then was gone.


	20. The Next Day

* * *

Giles had gone for quite a distance, leaving the crowds far behind, when he heard a faint whimpering behind him. He paused, turned, and saw Drusilla staggering towards him from an alleymouth. He frowned in concern. The vampire was rubbing her throat, making the high, keening wail she used when distressed or in pain.

Quickly, he closed the distance between them. Drusilla pressed up against him, whimpering like a little girl. "Daddy…the bad Slayer hurt me. Made me smoke."

She tilted her head up, enough for him to see the smoking black burn imprinted just above her collarbone. Giles let out a hiss of anger, but it was quickly replaced by concern as he gently traced the wound with a finger. It really was a bad burn, she must have connected hard. And it had connected with an especially thin layer of skin.

"Don't worry, Dru," he said, slipping an arm around her shoulder's as they walked off together. "I'll make sure she's punished for it."

"Can I eat her?" Drusilla asked, looking up at him with hopeful, childish eyes.

He chuckled. "No, I'm afraid not. I _do _need her. But I'll tell you what. You can have first pick of her friends."

"Even before Spike?"

"Even before Spike, yes. You're still recovering, Dru. Of course you need more food than he would."

Drusilla cooed contentedly, hugging him around the waist. "You're a good Daddy," she purred.

* * *

Spike was waiting when the two vampires arrived back at the mansion a little before sunrise. Drusilla immediately detached herself from Giles and flew across the room to embrace Spike. "My Spike must have been so bored while we were gone…" she cooed, running her fingers through the young vampire's hair.

"Nah, it's been pretty interesting," said Spike. "The brats kick up a fuss every twenty minutes or so."

"You didn't bite anyone, did you?" asked Giles as he crossed over to the bookcase.

Spike rolled his eyes. "No, I did not bite anyone," he said dully. "Although that girl with the black hair and the big mouth…it was tempting."

"Cordelia," Giles supplied. "And…well, Buffy shouldn't mind too much if we kill her. If she doesn't quiet down, the two of you can share her."

Drusilla clapped her hands. "Goody!"

Spike stretched languidly. "Yeah, good. I think they're starting to figure your plan, boss. The werewolf kicks up the loudest fuss out of any of them."

"Oz," Giles said. "And yes…he would, if he's figuring out the plan."

"So, how'd the Slayer take the news?"

"Badly," said Giles, finding the book he was searching for. "As I expected."

"And she'll be here…?"

"Tomorrow. Sunset."

"And you can be sure about that? No surprise visits?"

"Oh, no. She'll play by our rules while I have her friends."

"And then you kill her."

"And then I kill all of them," Giles corrected, staring intently at the pages. "That is an important point to remember, Spike. I kill _all _of them."

* * *

"I am _starving!_" Cordelia wailed for the fifth time that hour.

"Cordy…" said Oz, his voice tight. "Please, don't mention food."

"And we kind of have more important things to worry about, don't you think?" asked Willow. She was huddled against the wall, trying to draw some warmth from the still-weak sunrise. Gratefully, she flexed her fingers. It had taken all night for Oz to chew the three of them free.

"Duh, much! But until Buffy gets here, we have to wait like good little prisoners." She aimed a kick at the door. "And prisoners get _food!_"

"Food's not all that important when you might not last through the day," said Oz.

"It is _so _important!" Cordelia countered. "Haven't you ever heard of 'last meals'? We oughtta get anything we want if they're gonna kill us!"

"Cool," muttered Willow sarcastically. "Then _you _can ask them for a menu."

Oz's mouth twitched slightly, but he didn't add anything. Cordelia sighed and flounced over to a corner she'd adopted since they'd been locked in here. For the last few hours, they'd mostly heard Spike rolling around outside the door. From what they could tell, Giles and Drusilla had just arrived back. Willow had pressed her ear to the door until it hurt, but she'd been unable to catch a hint of Xander's fate.

"Will," Oz whispered, sitting down next to her.

"Oz," said Willow.

"Ah…I've been thinking…"

"Yeah, Oz?"

Oz looked at her, his eyes haunted.

"It's the day before the full moon," he whispered, his eyes haunted. "We're stuck here…and it's the day before the full moon."

Willow felt her heart jolt. "Oh my god…" she whispered, her gaze flying up to the window. "Oh my god…" she said again, because she could not wrap her mind around such a horrible fate. "Oz…"

Oz hung his head, chewing on his lip. "Will…" he confessed. "If…if Buffy doesn't get us out…I won't be able to stop it. I can't."

Willow was shaking, but she managed to pat her boyfriend on the shoulder. "Hey…it's okay. Buffy will come. She'll get us out. No…no problem."

He managed to smile weakly at her. "Sure she will, Will."

* * *

Buffy sat. There was nothing else for her to do.

So she sat, just outside the emergency room, twisting her fingers in her lap.

She sat alone.

She kept finding herself waiting for someone to come through the doors. Willow, babbling and fluttering with concern. Oz, stoically Oz as ever as he checked on a friend. Cordelia, shouting at the surgical staff for not taking care of Xander quickly enough. Giles, coming without really knowing why but providing comfort and logic to a crazy world.

Angel, who would sit with her and say nothing and that was enough.

_But there's no one left._

Buffy bit her lip as the horrible truth rang through her mind again.

_There's no one left._

She wiped at her eyes, but there were no tears there. She'd dried out her tear ducts. Crying would do nothing to help Xander…or the other three.

It was only just sunrise. She was to report to the mansion at sunset, to face her former Watcher…and possibly the corpses of her other three friends.

But until then, she was resolved to sit here. There was still Xander. Dependable Xander. Dependable, brave Xander. And she would sit here and watch over him even if the Hellmouth itself opened up.

She was so tired. She ached, and she hurt. But she dreaded closing her eyes. She feared what she would see…or even worse, what she might miss. Drusilla or Spike or Giles might come while she slept, might somehow sneak in to finish her and Xander off.

_No_, she told herself sternly. _That's stupid. Why would Giles give me the ultimatum and then snap my neck an hour later? I…I __**think**__ he's still honest. He's an evil murderer…but I think he's still honest. _

_Plus…it's daylight._

Buffy made her decision…then closed her eyes, and allowed herself to dream.


	21. Make a Choice

The story was originally going to go differently from here. Then I saw _Restless_. And I couldn't help myself. Enjoy

* * *

Buffy sat, in the middle of her room. An enormous pile of stuffed animals sat before her. Dreamily, she sorted them into piles. Soft, pastel colors danced before her eyes as each toy passed before her gaze. She felt worn fuzz beneath her fingers. Some of the toys looked quite worn out. Others were completely broken.

So she sorted them.

She heard a scream outside the window, followed by a crash.

She ignored it, and sorted her toys.

She heard a cry for help.

She ignored it once more.

"Don't you think you should be doing something?"

She didn't look round. "I _am _doing something," she said pointedly to Giles.

"You're pretending," he said sternly. "You're _hiding_."

"I'm not hiding from anything. I'm doing very important and needful work." She looked over her shoulder and held up a broken toy car. "Do you think this can be fixed?"

He picked it up and turned it over and over, examining it closely.

"No. It can't."

She sighed. "But it's my favorite!"

He sighed irritably and passed it back to her. "Buffy, an important lesson you'll have to learn…"

She turned her back on him, and returned to sorting. "No more lessons. No more lessons from dead guys."

He grumbled a bit, but sat down next to her and joined her in sorting. "Buffy, please. An important lesson you'll have to learn is that some things just can't be fixed."

He was about to place an old, dog-eared book of fairy tales in the "broken" pile, but Buffy made a growling noise and he hurriedly put it in the "okay" pile. He cast a glance over the "okay" pile, which was nearly as big as the pile they were sorting.

"Some things just can't be fixed," he repeated. "Sometimes you just need to take that first important step and get rid of them."

She stared hard at him. "Like you?"

He nodded. "Yes. Exactly."

"It's not as easy as it sounds, you know." She gestured at the pile. "This is a lot for one girl to carry to the Dumpster. Why don't you help?"

He started to clean his glasses, and Buffy got the impression that he was becoming steadily more irritated. For the life of her, she couldn't understand why. There was nothing dangerous about sorting toys. She couldn't understand why he was even here in the first place.

"Due to the virtue of being dead I am released from the obligation of helping you take out the trash." He slipped his glasses back onto his face and stared hard at her. "Buffy, you have to listen to me. Your life could depend on this…"

"No more lessons!" she yelled, getting to her feet and glaring at him. "No more lessons from dead guys! I'm on my own now! I'm all independent!"

"Except you don't have to pay rent," he reminded her. "Buffy, if you're on your own, why am I still here?"

"Because you're the only one who can make grilled cheese sandwiches!" she yelled angrily. "And dust! And get rid of the gnomes in the bathtub!"

He got to his feet as well, and said, very slowly, in a voice that was somehow clearer than the rest of the world. "No. It's because you can't gather up the courage to take out the trash."

"I've got other stuff to do!" she snapped, then grabbed Mr. Gordo from the top of the pile and ran from the room.

* * *

Angel stood by a doughnut shop, drinking from a mug. She hurried over to him. "Angel! Hide me!"

He looked up, and smiled wryly as he looked at her. Then, he checked his watch. "It's half past New Zealand. Are you skipping out again?"

She bobbed her head. "Yeah. Mr. Gordo and I have other stuff to do."

He laughed. "Okay. Go hide. I'll throw him off."

She thanked him, and dropped down behind an elephant that was eating a cheeseburger.

Soon, Giles came hurrying over to the doughnut shop. "Angel. Have you seen Buffy? It's vitally important."

He pointed in the direction opposite the elephant. "Yeah. She went over to the merry-go-round."

He nodded, then hurried away.

The elephant was suddenly gone, and Angel was staring at Buffy.

"You can't run forever," he said softly.

"Oh yes I can," said Buffy firmly. "Just a hop, skip, and a jump and I'm free and clear. Over the hills and through the woods."

Angel nodded in the direction Giles had gone. "He doesn't quit."

"Neither do I," said Buffy, getting to her feet. Mr. Gordo stood up shakily and dusted himself off.

Angel walked over to her, and brushed a strand of hair out of her face.

"It's a little late to be saying that, don't you think?" he asked quietly.

"What do you mean?" She gripped his hands. "Angel!"

He broke away from her grip and took several steps back. Then, he spread his arms wide, and smiled.

"Wish I could stay and chat, Buffy. But I've got to go."

"But it's only a quarter to chicken! Can't you stay?"

He shook his head. "No. Time to go. Time to move on."

A beam of intense sunlight cut through the heavy cloud cover. It hit Angel dead on, and he was gone.

Mr. Gordo was suddenly sitting on her shoulder. He patted her on the cheek. _"Don't worry. It doesn't matter."_

She swallowed, but nodded. "No. It doesn't."

Then, she walked away.

She passed a lemonade stand, manned by Miss Calendar. She stopped, and walked over. "Hey, how much?"

Miss Calendar, leaning against the table that made up her stand, smiled sadly. "You haven't finished paying, you know. No discounts."

Buffy dug in her pockets. "But I already gave you a cherry pie."

"Geez, Buffy, don't you even give your teachers a break when they're dead?"

Buffy shrugged. She pulled out a paddle ball, a Slinky, a bag of potato chips, then…

"A-ha!" she cried, producing a computer mouse that was missing its tail. She laid it on the table. "Two lemonades!"

Miss Calendar nodded and took the mouse. "Right. You got it."

In a blur, two glasses of lemonade were on the table. Buffy took one, and handed the other to Mr. Gordo. She thanked Miss Calendar, and turned to leave.

A hand shot out and grabbed her around the forearm. She turned, to see Miss Calendar leaning across the desk, a desperate expression on her face.

"Wait," the woman pleaded.

"I've got other stuff to do," Buffy insisted, trying to tug her arm free.

Miss Calendar was changing. Her skin was growing wrinkled and dry. Her eyes were going dull, and her grip was weakening even as Buffy fought it.

"Oh, stop being a brat, Buffy," said a voice.

She looked, and saw Giles standing before her, vamp face out for all to see. In a blur he'd produced a knife and slashed her in the throat.

Buffy gasped, and slowly raised a hand to the wound. Blood trickled between her fingers, and as she watched Giles held up a small vial to catch the dark red droplets. He brushed past her, and she turned to see him offer the blood to the dying Miss Calendar. He took the woman in his arms and helped her drink it.

"That tastes nice," she murmured dreamily, and as Buffy watched she reverted to her natural, whole self.

"Want some more?" asked Giles, carefully settling her on her feet.

She smiled up at him. "Oh, yeah. Your treat."

Then her own face changed, becoming a vampire face to match Giles' in ferocity.

They both turned to face her. Buffy, trying to reason with them but lacking a voice, backed away.

The two vampires advanced.

Someone else grabbed her wrist and tugged her away. "Come _on!_"

She ran with them, and the world changed.

She was in a desert, a windswept desert dotted with scrub brush and dead trees. Someone was still gripping her shoulders. She looked up, and Giles looked back at her.

"Are you all right?" he asked intensely.

"Put the knife down," she ordered him sternly.

He held up both hands, which were quite empty. "I never _had _a knife, Buffy. That wasn't me. You have to realize that, because if you don't…"

She turned away from him and started walking. "No more lessons. No more lessons from dead guys."

She heard him sigh, then:

"How about some advice from a friend?"

This made her pause, and turn. It was growing hotter in the desert, and while she stood in the meager shade under a tree he stood out in the open.

Buffy nodded.

"Okay."

She walked back over to him. He held out a hand.

"First, give me that."

She blinked, and saw that he was staring at her shoulder.

Buffy reached up, and picked up what had been Mr. Gordo. Now, it was only a lump of thread and cotton.

She felt her lower lip start to quiver. "Oh."

"It's broken, Buffy. You can't do anything about it. I'm sorry, but…"

She held the mess in her arms. "But he…means so much…"

His hands closed on hers. "Yes. And he knows that, I know he does. But it's time to make a choice."

She looked up at him…then she let him take the remains of her stuffed pig.

He scattered the mess to the winds, and she watched sadly as it drifted away.

"Now what?" she asked. "You gave your ghostly message. You and Angel. Now what?"

"Now you stop running," said Giles. "Now you wake up, and make your choice."

She looked up at him. "But if I do, you're going to disappear."

He nodded. "Yes. I'm sorry."

She took a deep breath. "Well…since I probably won't remember doing this…"

She hugged him, even as she felt the dream fade. "Giles, I'm sorry…I'm so sorry…I'm sorry, sorry, sorry…"


	22. End of Day

"Miss Summers…Miss Summers, wake up," a voice was saying.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, I'm…_agh_!"

Buffy suddenly jerked awake, so startled that she grabbed the white-coated doctor she'd been hugging by the throat. He gagged and she blinked, realizing what she'd done.

"I'm so sorry!" she gasped, releasing him. "I've just…had a bad day…make that week…or months…"

He rubbed his throat. "That's…quite all right. I just thought you'd like to know that Mr. Harris has been stabilized."

Buffy paused, scarcely daring to believe the words her ears had heard. Then, her face broke into a huge, happy smile. The kind she hadn't smiled for months. "He's okay?!"

"Well, he'll need to stay in for at least a few more days while we elevate his blood count…"

"But he's gonna be okay?"

"Yes, we're fairly sure…"

"Can I see him?"

He smiled. "Yes, of course. But not for too long. He needs rest."

"Yeah, yeah, sure, sure," said Buffy, scrambling to her feet. "Lead the way!"

So he did, leading her through the doorway into the wards. Buffy shuddered, remembering how much she hated hospitals. But this one was slightly better. This one had saved Xander's life.

And the doctor led her into a room in which the sun was shining, the television was playing the news, and Xander was laying in bed. His arms were coated with tubes and two tubes had been placed inside his nose, blowing in oxygen. But he looked up as she entered, and his eyes lit.

The doctor stood at the door. "Twenty minutes, ma'am. Then he needs sleep."

"Yeah…" said Buffy dazedly, sitting down in the chair next to Xander's bed. "Sure."

He left them, and Buffy sat. She sat there, gazing at her friend. It seemed miraculous that he was still alive, but he was. The one thing left in her life that made sense and was even vaguely familiar.

He waved weakly. "Morning, Buff." His voice was dry and hoarse.

She grinned. "Morning, Xand. How're you feeling?"

"Nice and bloody…" He grimaced. "…that didn't come out too good, did it""

Still grinning, Buffy shook her head. "Nope. But…you're okay?"

"I'm woozy…and nauseous…and tired…but yeah. I'm good." Xander looked hard at her, still trying to focus with unfocused eyes. "Buffy…what about Will? Willow, Oz, Cordy…where are they? What happened to them? What's Giles gonna do to them?"

She sighed. "I…don't know. But they're at the old mansion, on the edge of town. I'm supposed to report there around sunset."

Xander looked agonized. "Buffy…you have to save them. Willow was _terrified_, and…"

"I know, Xander. I will. I'll save all of them."

Xander bit his lip. "Even if it means staking Giles?"

Buffy nodded slowly. "Even if it means staking _what used to be _Giles. I'm not going to make the same mistakes I made with Angel. I'm going to do it right this time."

She reached out a hand, and Xander managed to grip it. "I'm the Slayer. Come sunset, I'm gonna do my job."

* * *

"I'm not gonna change…I'm not gonna change…I'm not gonna change…I'm not gonna change…"

Oz sat huddled in a corner, facing the wall. The single sunbeam in the room had been steadily moving all day. Willow knew that soon the sun would set.

Soon, Oz would change.

"I'm not gonna change…I'm not gonna change…"

He sat with his back to them, rocking back and forth and murmuring the litany under his breath.

"I'm not gonna change…"

They'd heard nothing from their captors all that day, and Willow had gotten the message.

If Buffy didn't come, they would be left in here. With Oz. On the night of the full moon.

Willow felt a lump in her throat. As she watched Oz from an opposite corner with Cordelia, she wanted to go over to Oz, comfort him and tell him it was all okay. But Oz had made himself clear. Willow and Cordelia were to stay as far away from him as the cramped room allowed.

"I'm not gonna change…I'm not gonna change…"

"What do we do when he changes?" asked Cordelia, in an appallingly loud whisper.

Oz twitched a little. He curled into an even tighter ball, and his chanting increased in speed and desperation. "Notgonnachangenotgonnachangenotgonnachangenotgonna…"

Willow bit her lip. Then, getting gingerly to her feet, she crossed the room. "Oz…"

"Stay back!" Oz snapped over his shoulder. Willow flinched a little, but knew the words were born out of fear and not anger. She swallowed, and plunged on.

"Oz, I was thinking…when you're a werewolf, you act like an animal…"

He nodded jerkily.

"And one thing animals do is…is hunt by scent…"

Again, another nod. But she could see faint comprehension dawning, and was glad of it.

"So I was thinking…just before you change, give us your jacket and your t-shirt. They smell like…like you…so when you're a werewolf you might not notice us. You might…you might go after more…okay, not as tasty targets. Like Spike."

Oz's face broke into an expression of utter relief, and at that moment he got to his feet and hugged her tightly. "Will…you're amazing."

Willow smiled weakly. "I try."

"Gag!" called Cordelia from the corner. "Could you two _not _lock lips in here? I may not have eaten anything all day, but I can still hurl!"

Willow twisted her head to look over her shoulder, and stuck her tongue out at Cordy. Then, she kissed Oz and Oz kissed her back.

When Oz returned to his huddle in the corner, Willow sat with him and gripped his shoulders. Together, as the sun sank lower, they chanted.

"Not gonna change…not gonna change…not gonna change…"

* * *

Buffy left Xander only when the hospital staff kicked her out.

She left him with a promise that Willow would be by to see him tomorrow.

Then, she walked home. She had a few hours. Maybe she could rest. Not sleep. Sleep was impossible now. But she could rest. Recover. Prepare. Of course, there would be explanations to give her mother. But with any luck the whole "Xander-in-the-hospital" situation would overtake the whole "out-with-a-head-wound-at-three-in-the-morning" situation.

She knocked on her front door, and opened it. Stepping into the living room, she called _"I'm home!"_

Before the echoes from her call had even died away, Joyce Summers emerged from the kitchen. Her arms were folded. Her expression was thunderous…and Buffy knew that no excuses would save her.

"Buffy Anne Summers," said her mother quietly. "I would like you to tell me what the hell is going on here."

* * *

Don't worry, I'll stop dragging my feet. Next chapter, you get big plot twist. No worries.


	23. Shout, Stab, and Plan

Buffy's mouth was suddenly very dry

Buffy's mouth was suddenly very dry.

"W-What?" she asked helplessly.

"What…the hell…is going on here?" asked her mother again.

"Mom, how did you find out?!"

Joyce pointed into the kitchen, and now that she focused Buffy could hear the sounds of raised voices. An…argument.

"How could I _not _find out?!" she demanded. "They're been at it for half an hour!"

Buffy tried not to feel relieved. Oh. She wasn't in trouble about leaving in the middle of the night…yet. And her secret wasn't blown…yet.

Then, the more pressing problem forced itself onto her attention.

"_Who's _been at it for half an hour?!"

"Your school librarian, that girl Kendra, and some boy who says he's in your _band!_"

Buffy blinked…then shoved past her mother and dashed into the kitchen. She dashed past the argument going on, grabbed a butcher's knife from the block, and slammed it, point first, into the table right in the middle of the three combatants.

Wesley Wyndham-Pryce, Kendra the Other Vampire Slayer, and _Spike _all froze, staring in surprise at the enormous knife. Then, slowly, they all turned to look at her.

"First person to give me a _really _good explanation doesn't get stabbed," said Buffy, her voice soft and dangerous.

For a moment, it looked as if no one could speak.

Then, Wesley cleared his throat.

"Buffy, I am aware that this looks bad…"

Buffy slammed the kitchen door shut in her mother's face and rounded on him. "Bad? _Bad?!_ You're screaming at each other about vampires and the end of the world _in front of my mother_ and you say it looks _bad_?!" She pointed at Spike. "And you! What the hell are you doing here? I oughtta stake you right now!"

"They've been sayin' the same thing for a good half hour!" snapped Spike, gesturing at Wesley and Kendra. "Is that the thanks I get for comin' to warn you, Slayer?!"

"Warn me about what?!" Buffy snapped.

Spike folded his arms. "I've done enough shouting for one night. If I've risked my neck to come and talk to you, I'm gonna do it below five decibals. You want the warning, you listen. You don't shout."

Buffy opened her mouth to continue shouting…then she froze.

Remember Xander. Willow. Oz. Cordelia.

Remember that whatever Giles had dreamed up, they were going to suffer for it.

"Okay," she said softly. "What's going on?"

Spike leaned against the table, and pulled a newspaper from an inside pocket of his blazer. He tossed it to her, and Buffy caught it.

"Page 6, Sunnydale Scribe," he said. "Second down."

Obediently, Buffy flipped to the page. She looked at the second article down from the top.

"Some stupid statue got stolen from the museum," she said.

"And the curator was found very, very dead without a drop of blood in his body," said Spike. "Boss was in a _very _good mood that night. I only just found out why."

Buffy looked hard at him. "Giles did it?"

Spike clapped his hands. "Give the Slayer a prize. _Yes, _Giles did it! And did he ever tell you what the stupid statue _does?_"

Buffy folded her arms to match Spike. "No. There was the little matter of him _dying_."

Wesley cleared his throat. "Ah…Buffy. If I may?"

Buffy was about to snap at him, but Spike held up a hand. "No, no. Let England have his say. I don't wanna spend twenty minutes getting the concept into your airy little head."

Buffy laid her hand threateningly on the handle of the butcher's knife, but turned to Wesley. "Okay. Talk. Speak. With words."

And he did.

And when he was done, Buffy stared at him.

"Suck the entire world into hell?" she asked hoarsely.

"Yes," said Wesley.

"And Giles is gonna wake him _up?_"

"We…believe so."

"I _know _so," Spike countered.

"_How _do you know?" Buffy demanded of the Watcher.

Kendra hesitantly raised her hand.

"Me," she said. "A…A week or so ago, I had a dream. I dreamed about the monster, and your Watcher. My Watcher was so worried that he contacted the Council."

"And we decided to act," said Wesley grimly. "We managed to get here before Giles stole the statue. We cast a protection spell over it, to strengthen the spell binding Acathla."

"And for protection, they brought _me_," said Kendra stubbornly.

"Didn't work," added Spike. "Giles ate three of 'em, brought the rest home for Dru and I. I guess I should have gotten suspicious right then, but…they just tasted too damn good."

"We were lucky," said Wesley.

"I don't call it lucky!" Kendra snapped. Wesley ignored her.

"We were out that night. G…Gathering information…"

"Grocery shopping!" Kendra growled.

"…and by the time we'd returned…"

"It was all over."

Wesley worriedly adjusted his glasses, trying to avoid Kendra _and _Buffy's icy stares.

"You worthless little worm," said Buffy softly. "You let all of your partners get killed because you were out buying _milk_."

He sighed. "Yes. Worthless. That's a good word. Buffy, I know you told me not to come back, but…I wanted to prove that I _wasn't _just a liability to you."

"He failed," said Spike.

"Shut up, Spike!" Buffy snarled.

"No, he hasn't gotten to the very best part!" said Spike, who was grinning. "Go on, Wes. Tell 'em what the ingredients to break the protection spell are."

Wesley now had Kendra, Buffy, and Spike all staring at him.

"We…We thought it would be best," he whispered. "You…you seemed to have everything so in hand, so…we made it so the protection spell could not be broken without five ingredients. The…the hair of the maiden…"

"Cordelia," Spike provided.

"The life of the warrior…"

"Xander."

"The blood of the witch…"

"Willow."

"And the fangs of the beast."

"Oz," finished Spike, now looking quite cheerful as he watched Wesley squirm. "And what was the last ingredient, Wes?"

Wesley…sighed.

"The heart of the Slayer."

Dead silence rang around the room. Then Buffy grabbed the butcher's knife out of the table and advanced on Wesley.

"You…worthless…piece of…_garbage!_"

She hurled the knife at him. Kendra neatly stepped in front of Wesley and caught it, handle first.

"Enough!" she yelled.

"No! Not enough!" Buffy yelled, lunging at Wesley. Kendra blocked her, slammed her against the wall. "I'll rip out your rib cage and wear it as a hat!"

"We thought it would make the statue safe," said Wesley, speaking quickly. "You had things under control. We…We didn't know…"

"_I'll kill you!"_

Spike moved in, pulling both Slayers apart and shoving them away. He rounded on Buffy.

"Okay, not that I don't like you lot snarling at each other and not at me. But you're forgetting a few things, Buff. You've got until the moon rises tonight before Giles goes to work. Because when the moon rises, Oz suddenly comes down with a bad case of body fur. He wants the ingredients as close together as possible, and he's already got Xander's, thanks to Dru draining the life out of him. And once that ritual goes down, the only way to stop it is with the blood of the one who initiated it. You've been havin' trouble putting him down for the past couple of months, I really don't think you wanna push your luck. Not with your friends on the line."

"Why do you _care?_" Buffy growled.

"You think I want to see the world sucked into the depths of hell? No ma'am."

"You _do _remember you're a vampire, don't you?"

Spike grinned.

"We like to talk big. Vampires do. "I'm going to destroy the world." That's just tough guy talk. Strutting around with your friends over a pint of blood. The truth is, I like this world. You've got... dog racing, Manchester United. And you've got people, billions of people walking around like Happy Meals on legs. It's all right here. But then someone comes along with a vision, with a real... passion for destruction. Giles could pull it off. Goodbye, Piccadilly. Farewell, Leicester Bloody Square."

Buffy, Wesley, and Kendra stared at him. Spike shrugged. "Course, there is a catch."

"Knew it," both Slayers muttered.

Spike stared hard at Buffy. "You let me and Dru skip town, I'll help kill your Watcher."

"The entire world may be sucked into hell and you want my help because your girlfriend's a big ho?!" Buffy demanded, getting to her feet. "Well, let me take this opportunity to _not _care!"

"You haven't got a choice right now!" Spike snarled, his face morphing out of apparent anger. "If you try to fight Giles and Drusilla with the world on the line, you're gonna lose, I promise you now! You go alone, and you'll drag this whole world down with you!"

"She is not alone!" Kendra proclaimed.

"Indeed not," said Wesley grimly. "Buffy, we're here to help you. Just…tell us what must be done."

Buffy was about to reply…then she heard the kitchen door slam open. All of them whirled towards the noise, tensed to fight.

Joyce Summers stood there, her mouth agape.

Buffy had forgotten all about her.

"Mom…" she whispered.

"I don't want to hear it," said Joyce quietly. "I don't want to hear it, Buffy." She pointed at Spike, Wesley, and Kendra. "You three get out of my house! Get out of my house and leave my daughter alone!"


	24. Mother

Buffy took a step forward, desperate. "Mom, please! It's not what it…"

"I don't want to hear it!" her mother snapped. "You three! Get out now before I call the police!"

"Miss Summers…" said Kendra, just as desperately. "There is no time for this! We must leave, soon!"

"The fate of the world depends on it!" Wesley was almost begging.

Spike's priorities were otherwise. "The fate of _Dru _depends on it!"

Joyce flung out her arms, blocking the doorway. "Buffy Anne Summers, you are not going anywhere!"

Buffy stared at her mother, with her aggressive stance and fierce face. So unlike the gentle woman who had made her popcorn while they watched _Steel Magnolias_…had it only been a week ago?

"Wesley?" she asked softly. "You say you want to help me?"

"Of course," said Wesley firmly.

"Good. Please…explain things to Mom. I need to go get ready."

Wesley laid a hand on her shoulder. "Of course. Miss Summers, if you would care to sit down?"

"I would _not _care to…"

She got no further. Wesley gripped her by the shoulders, forced her arms down, and sat her down at the coffee table. He nodded at Buffy. "Go."

Buffy nodded, and hurried upstairs to her room. Moving dreamily, she packed her bag. Packed it with everything she'd need.

_Stop running_, Giles had said. _Make a choice_.

Well, tonight she was going to make a choice. A choice as hard as the one she'd made that night in the burning warehouse. But she would make it.

Stakes?

_Six ready for easy access, another four hidden away in case things get desperate._

Holy water?

_A whole canteen full._

Crosses?

_Angel's around her neck and her "working cross" in her pocket._

Heart?

Buffy took a deep breath, and let it out slowly.

_Stone._

She hurried downstairs, bag slung over her shoulder. The sun was setting. It was time.

"Spike went on ahead," said Kendra, meeting her at the bottom of the stairs. "He said he would try to buy us time." The other Slayer bit her lip. "Do you really trust him?"

"Not a bit," said Buffy promptly. "But I know he wants Dru alive. If _any _of my friends die tonight…" Her fists clenched. "All that'll be left of his girlfriend will be sweepings under the rug. I promise you that."

Kendra smiled. "I believe you."

"Did you bring stuff?"

Kendra frowned. "…stuff?"

Remembering that while she was making progress, Kendra could be as dense as a brick, Buffy mimed stabbing something. "_You know_. Stuff?"

Comprehension dawned. "Oh, yes. I brought a _lot _of…stuff."

"Good. Unpack it and load up."

Kendra nodded, and set her bag down on the living room floor before opening and sorting quickly through the contents. Buffy watched, occasionally picking up articles of clothing or books before they did any damage. "You brought stakes?"

"Several."

"Crosses?"

"Three."

"Holy water?"

Kendra stopped. "Oh, damn!" she wailed.

Buffy smiled. "Hey, it's okay. I have enough holy water to drown a cow. I'll go get you some."

Her partner smiled gratefully at her. "Thanks. I'll be ready in a minute."

Buffy hurried upstairs and filled a second canteen full of holy water. When she came back down, it was to find Kendra ready for Slayage…even having a sword sheathed at her side.

"Here," she said, passing over the canteen. "You'll need it."

"Thanks."

"Nice sword."

Kendra blinked…then unbuckled the belt and handed it to Buffy. "Actually…it's for you."

Buffy blinked in return…but accepted the blade and examined it. It was finely crafted, beautiful and light. That was evident even while it was sheathed. "Thanks…what's the occasion?"

Kendra pulled a crumpled piece of paper out of her pocket. "We…met a man when we got off the plane. We were away from the rest, getting something to eat, and he just came up to us. At least…I think he was a man. He told me to give this to you. That you'd know what to do."

Buffy accepted the note and glanced at it. In untidy handwriting, the message read:

_Balance ain't just out of wack anymore. It's completely shot. Use this. Make things right again. You'll know what to do._

__

"Where are we going?" asked Kendra, slipping the canteen over her shoulders.

"Old mansion. Edge of town. Just follow me. Where's Wes?"

"Still talking to your Mother."

"Mm. Maybe we should leave him to it. So she won't call the cops on you two."

"Perhaps."

Buffy bit her lip. "Kendra…I'm not sure I can do this. I mean…we could be too late any second."

Kendra shook her head. "Your Watcher struck me as the type to keep his promise. He also struck me as…punctual. He will not strike until he said he would." She looked at Buffy strangely, and reached out a hand. "Also…I am very sorry. I liked him."

"I did, too."

She and Kendra clasped hands. Kendra smiled, and pulled a particularly nasty looking stake from her belt. "So you called me. Wise choice. This is my best stake. I've named him 'Mr. Pointy'."

Buffy smiled back. "After this is over…we have _got _to get you a stuffed animal."

"After _what _is over?" asked Joyce Summers from the kitchen doorway. Her arms were folded. Wesley hovered behind her, and as Buffy glowered at him he shrugged helplessly.

"Wesley explained, didn't he?" asked Buffy.

"He did, and I didn't understand a word of it!"Is 'vampire' some sort of slang for drugs?" Joyce demanded.

"No! Mom, it's nothing like that!"

"Then what is going on?

Buffy and Kendra exchanged a look of panic, which caused Joyce to change targets. "Kendra…I know you care about Buffy just as much as I do…"

"Mom!" Buffy shouted, intervening on Kendra behalf. Family was definitely not the other girl's area of expertise.

Joyce whirled to face her daughter, angry and terrible even in her lacy nightgown. "I want the _truth_, Buffy! Vampires? Watchers? Slaying? And what _has _happened to your friends? You've been gone since this morning with a head wound you barely have anymore and you only come back to…I want to know what's really going on with you!" Joyce's expression changed from rage to heartfelt sadness. "Buffy, you've been acting strange ever since we moved to Sunnydale and…I was ready to accept that. You seemed to be adjusting, and that made me happy. But…ever since Mr. Giles died, you've been getting so much worse. Buffy…please, tell me. What's going on with you?"

"Mom, I don't have _time!_" God, she couldn't handle this! With everything that had gone wrong, please not _now!_

"Well, make time!" her mother snapped. "And I know that's a stupid mom cliché, but…I'm worried about you, Buffy. And I want to stop this before it gets out of control!"

"It's already out of control!" Buffy wailed.

_Tomorrow night, Buffy. Sunset. Don't be late._

"Mom, I'm the Vampire Slayer! I wander around graveyards at night killing vampires and monsters! Giles was my Watcher, he was supposed to look after me but he got killed by Angel because I didn't save him since I was too busy _killing_ Angel! And now Giles is a vampire and he's ten times worse than Angel and he has Willow and Oz and Cordy and if you don't let me go he's going to kill them and probably end the world while he's at it!"

Joyce's mouth had dropped open as Buffy's voice rose to hysterics. Then, she closed it and said, in the voice of a mother trying against great odds to be reasonable:

"So…everything Mr. Pryce just told me?"

"Yes!"

"Have you tried _not _being a Vampire Slayer?"

Buffy wanted to scream with frustration. "Mom, I have to _go!_"

"It's because you didn't have a strong father figure, isn't it?"

"No! That has nothing to do with it!"

"You're not punishing me for the divorce?"

"Mom, _listen to me!_"

Kendra laid a strong arm on her shoulder, bringing a little calk back. "We need to go. Your Watcher struck me as the type who expects punctuality."

Buffy smiled, grateful for the relief, and turned towards the door. "Yeah. He does. Wesley, handle things here!""

"You're not going to hurt anyone, are you?" Joyce cried.

She rolled her eyes. "I'm a Slayer, not a postal worker."

Kendra raised a hand. "I'll probably hurt some people."

Joyce shoved her way past Buffy and planted herself in front of the door. "Buffy, you are not going anywhere!"

Buffy sighed, regarding her mother with detachment in her eyes. "Yes. I am."

"Buffy, as your mother I have to insist…"

"Open your eyes, Mom. What do you think has been going on for the past two years? The fights, the weird occurrences. How many times have you washed blood out of my clothing, and you still haven't figured it out?"

"Well it stops now!"

"No, it doesn't stop. It never stops. Do-do you think I chose to be like this? Do you have any idea how lonely it is? How dangerous? I would _love_ to be upstairs watching TV or gossiping about boys or, god, even studying! But I have to save the world. Again."

Buffy pushed past her mother, Kendra following behind her. Turning over her shoulder, Buffy glared at Wesley.

"Handle things!"

"Of course." Wesley stepped forward and laid a hand on Joyce's shoulders. "Miss Summers, please…"

Buffy opened the door and had one foot on the doorstep before her mother spoke again.

"If you walk out that door don't you even _think _of coming back into this house again!"

She heard Kendra gasp.

She heard Wesley wince.

Buffy paused…but only for a moment.

Joyce watched the two girls tear down the driveway until the darkness swallowed them. Neither looked back. Numb, defeated, she let Wesley steer her away from the phone and back into the kitchen.

"Is this punishment? Did Buffy do something wrong? Did _I _do something wrong?"

"I think you did," said Wesley gently. "But it has nothing to do with the past. Please, sit. I'll make some tea."

* * *

This bit was a pain to re-design. I know I could have matched up more of the lines, but I really wanted to get this done. By the way, the note? From Whistler. The font I was using didn't go through properly. If you have "Wingdings" font on your computer, use it to type "Whistler".


	25. Dead to Me

Willow and Cordelia sat, huddled against the wall, as Oz changed. Willow wore his shirt, Cordelia wore his jacket. They watched, as the sun set and the transformation set in. Oz screamed, screamed as his spine curved and his face lengthened. Screamed as hair sprouted all over his body and his fingers lengthened into claws.

"I'm gonna die…" Cordelia whimpered. "I'm gonna die…I'm gonna get eaten by an oversized poodle and I've never even been to Milan…"

Willow hunched her shoulders. "I-It's okay. He w-won't notice us, c-c-cause we s-smell like him…"

Cordelia rolled her eyes. "_Very _reassuring. Next time try it _without _the stutter!"

They watched in horror. They were trapped, and Oz was changing. He would rip them to pieces without remorse, wouldn't even know they were dead until dawn…

The door of the tiny room that had been their home for the past day…opened.

Cordelia made a break for it. Drusilla punched her in the face, sending the other girl hard into the wall. As Cordelia slid to the floor, Willow saw that her nose was broken. Blood dripped down her face.

Drusilla smiled as she shut the door and locked it. Then, she caught a little of Cordelia's blood on her finger and licked it. She made a face.

"Bitter," she whined. "Such bitter blood, not sweet like the boy's was…oh, if only the bad Slayer hadn't taken him away, he tasted so sweet…"

"Bite me!" Cordelia snarled. Willow winced at the choice of words.

Drusilla produced a pair of long scissors. "No. I don't want any bitter blood. It makes my tongue tingle. But Daddy is making such a lovely surprise for the world, and I'm going to help him. That's what good daughters do…"

She swooped down on Cordelia. Willow covered her eyes, expecting a scream…

It didn't come. There was an indignant cry, but no scream of pain.

Willow peeped through her fingers, and saw Drusilla's fist clenched around a hank of Cordelia's long, black hair. Cordelia was screaming bloody murder.

"Hair extensions are _certainly _not your thing, you bitch! And we're practically the same shade, why did you need to go and hack off _my _hair…"

Drusilla sniffed the strands, ignoring their former owner, and sighed contentedly.

"Hair of the maiden…" she murmured. "Pretty…"

Then, whirling around, she brought a fist down hard on the top of Oz's skull. Willow could see that the blow dazed him, but he was now more wolf than boy and retained his consciousness. He snarled at Drusilla, who merely slugged him again.

What followed were thirty of the most painful seconds of Willow's life. She watched as Drusilla beat Oz brutally, too frozen with terror to intervene. Oz himself, halfway between two forms, would snap his teeth at his tormenter, or try to claw at her. Drusilla would merely laugh, and deliver another bone-crushing blow.

"Stop!" Willow screamed. "Stop it, please! Don't hurt him! Hurt me, hurt me please!"

But too late. With a canine whimper, Oz crumpled to the floor in a half-man, half-wolf heap. Drusilla knelt, this time producing a pair of pliers…

There was a disgustingly organic noise, and Oz let out a yowl of pain even in the depths of unconsciousness. When Drusilla stood, she was holding two long, yellowing, bloodstained fangs.

"Fangs of the beast," said the vampire cheerfully. She placed them in her own mouth, pretending they were her own, and growled playfully at Willow. "Grrr!"

Then, she produced the scissors again, and glided over to Willow. Willow sat, huddled in the corner, watching in terror as Drusilla approached. She saw Cordelia against the opposite corner, blood on her face, eyes wide with terror.

Drusilla knelt down before Willow and brushed the shaking girl's hair out of her face.

"Such nice hair…" she murmured. "I'd like to have your hair. It's so silky soft, like a big fluffy quilt…"

Willow tried to force herself to relax. Maybe she just needed more hair, it would be just like getting a haircut from a really bad barber…

And then, there was pain. Hot, burning pain that started from her stomach and spread outwards.

Willow stared in numb surprise at the scissor blades that had pierced her stomach. Stared as Drusilla produced a small glass vial, and let the blood trickle into it.

"And blood of the witch," said Drusilla, a kind of fierce triumph in her voice as she held the vial up to the dying light. "I wonder…"

She began to tip the vial towards her lips.

"Drusilla!" came a bark from the doorway.

Drusilla turned. Cordelia turned. Willow, trying feebly to stop her stomach bleeding, looked up.

Giles stood in the doorway, hands in his pockets, a stern expression on his face as he stared at Drusilla. He gestured towards the vial. "What did I tell you?"

Drusilla seemed to wilt a little under the stern gaze. She lowered the vial and stuck out her bottom lip. "No eating the ingredients," she recited sulkily.

"That's correct," said Giles sternly. "Now, give me that."

Drusilla looked inclined to argue. Giles let his face vamp out and said, his voice almost a growl:

"The _blood_, Drusilla. _Now_, unless you want to join our prisoner bleeding on the floor!"

Drusilla meekly held out the vial, and Giles snatched it from her.

"Are you angry, Daddy?" she asked, her voice shaking.

Giles regarded her…then he sighed, and his face reverted to its human semblance.

"No," he said. "You just need to learn, Dru. There are times when instructions must be obeyed, and to the letter. These are all crucial ingredients to our plan, and one false step could spoil it. Do you understand?"

Drusilla nodded as the calm instruction was delivered. "Yes, Daddy. I do want to see the pretty fires, I really do…" She let out a little keening wail. "I'm such a bad girl…"

Giles slipped an arm around Drusilla's shoulders, and said with affection in his voice: "No. You're not. You just need some help every now and then. Come on. You can help me get ready."

"Wait!"

The two vampires turned. Cordelia knelt by Willow, pressing Oz's jacket over the wound. The two girls stared at them with terrified expressions.

"You're just going to let her bleed to death?!" Cordelia demanded. "You're not even gonna bother to drink her or…or turn her?! You're just gonna let her bleed?! God, Giles, what happened to you?! This is _Willow_! She wasted hours and hours of productive beauty sleep to help you…she tried to give you back your _soul_, dammit!"

Giles stared at the two children…then shrugged, and turned his back on them.

"You three are dead to me," he said softly. "From the moment you filled in my grave. I don't need a soul. It's…much more liberating without one, to tell you the truth." He shot a look at Drusilla. "Dru. Now."

"Yes, Daddy."

With that, the two vampires left the room and closed the door. Cordelia was left there, with an unconscious werewolf and a dying witch.

"Dammit, Willow…don't die on me now…" she growled, pressing down harder on the wound. Willow winced in pain. "Shut up!"

She had been left like that for nearly ten minutes, feeling Willow's life slowly slipping away from her, when the door slammed open again. Her gaze whipped round to it, and she bared her teeth as Spike hurried through.

"What, has he decided he's gonna let you drink us dry anyway?!" she screamed at him. "Well let me tell you, peroxide-boy, if you take another step near me I'll claw your…"

Spike stared at them in amazement, then slammed the door, crossed over to Cordelia, and clamped a hand over her mouth.

"All right, you stupid bint, shut your gob. Here's the plan. I screwed up royally, I thought Rupert wouldn't go for the other ingredients until he was guaranteed to get Blondie's heart. But he can't undo the spell until he gets it, so I…sorry, _you_ might still have a chance of survivin' this. Look, Slayers A and B are on their way, they should only be a few minutes behind me. When things go down, you make a break for it with Red. Head for the hospital and stay there. Won't save you if the Slayers lose, but you can stick together and there's safety in numbers. Leave Oz, safest place for him is away from you. Once it starts, run for it. Don't look back. Don't try and help. Just run for your goddamn lives. Get it?"

He removed his hand. Stunned, Cordelia nodded.

"Got it."

"Good. Keep Red alive, do your job, and we all might live to see sunrise. Figuratively speakin', of course." Spike let himself vamp out, and grinned evilly. "Oh, is Boss gonna be surprised…"

* * *

Yes, now instead of Giles needing to be rescued, we have Willow. The image of Drusilla stabbing her with the scissors still freaks me out. And Oz is halfway defanged. Yay?


	26. Showdown

"We're late!" Buffy moaned as they ran.

"I know!"

"We are _so _late!"

"I know! So keep running! What happens if we re late?"

"I don't know, but I'm sure it's bad!"

"You are probably right! So save your breath and keep running!"

Dusk was falling by the time the two Slayers dashed up the path to the mansion. They hit the double doors, which burst open. They stumbled into the room beyond, gasping for breath.

"Hello, Watcher," Buffy growled.

Giles stood beside the statue of Acathla, staring hard at a wristwatch. The statue was surrounded by five braziers, the floor covered in colored chalk.

"Only three minutes late," he said. "Not bad at all, Buffy." He looked up at them, his face evil and vampiric. "Ah, and I see you've gotten assistance. Very wise choice. Hello, Kendra."

Kendra swallowed and hefted Mr. Pointy. Buffy heard the doors slam and lock. She didn't need to look to see who had done it. Spike Drusilla had been in position.

Buffy turned to stare at the blonde vampire.

Spike jerked his head ever so slightly to a door set in the wall a few feet away. It appeared closed, but was in fact standing ever so slightly ajar.

Okay. So Spike was apparently holding up his end.

But they were trapped.

Buffy hefted her own stake. "So…I hear you need a heart. In more ways than one."

"I wonder where you heard that from?"

"Does it matter?"

"No. Because I _do _need a heart. And a soul, if Willow is to be believed. But I need a very specific heart."

"Mine," said Buffy coldly.

"Or Kendra's," said Giles evenly.

"Come and take it, then!" Kendra growled.

"Don't!" Buffy hissed, putting a hand on her partner's shoulder. She jerked her head towards the door, trying to get Kendra to keep her gaze on Drusilla. Drusilla was impossible to predict, and Buffy herself needed to focus all her attention on the ringmaster.

Kendra did not take the hint. Buffy responded by shifting slightly to the left, allowing herself to keep Drusilla in her peripheral vision.

"What have you done with the others?" she asked.

"They're still alive. Well…maybe all of them."

Buffy went rigid as the words coursed through her like an electric shock. When she spoke, her voice was a deadly hiss.

"You said nothing would happen to them! You _promised!_"

"I promised no such thing," said Giles, his tone mock-offended. "We needed blood. Drusilla was a bit…overenthusiastic. Not her fault." He cast his glance towards each of the braziers in turn. "Life of the warrior. Hair of the maiden. Fangs of the beast. Blood of the witch. How convenient. I guess those four still had a point."

Buffy's grip tightened around her stake.

"I'll kill you," she whispered.

Giles regarded her coolly.

"Well, you've done so once before. You're dead to me, Buffy. You just haven't stopped breathing yet. But that's easily fixed!"

He lunged. From Kendra's startled yelp, Drusilla had joined him.

In one fluid movement, Buffy drew the sword.

* * *

Cordelia heard screaming. Screams and snarls and cries.

Sounded like things were "going down".

_Run for your goddamn lives_, Spike had said. _Run, and don't look back_.

That was fine with her.

Willow had long since lost consciousness, but she still breathed. Cordelia heaved her upright, slipping one of the red-head's arms over her shoulder.

"God," she growled through gritted teeth. "What do you eat for breakfast? Bricks?!"

Fortunately, several months of (partially) forced contact with the Scoobies had supplemented her inherent strength. Willow was heavy, but Cordelia was confident that she could at the very least make it to a pay phone.

She cast a glance at the unconscious werewolf. But, Oz would be okay. Oz currenty had fangs the size of small knives, claws that could rip the hide off an elephant, and muscles to shame the football team. Anything that tried to take Oz once he woke up would seriously regret it.

_Same goes for me_, thought Cordelia grimly as she and Willow hobbled towards the door.

Buffy was fighting Giles, but she had a sword and he did not. Cordelia counted that as a plus. Kendra was backed into a corner fending off Drusilla with a mere stake. That was less of a plus.

But there was the door, wide open, beckoning. Freedom. Life.

Spike was hanging back from the fight, clearly looking for his moment. Whatever his moment was. He caught Cordelia's eye, and winked at her before vamping out.

She left it at that, and dragged Willow out into the night.

* * *

"Nice little toy. However, if I recall…swords never were your best weapon, Buffy."

"I could still pin you to the wall with it!" Buffy snapped, swinging it at neck-height. Her foe was quick, and ducked.

"What's the point of this, Giles? Why end the world? What the hell is it going to accomplish?!"

"Oh, dear. You still haven't figured it out? I want to end the world, Buffy. Like so many monsters before me. I want to see what it will look like. I want to experience an apocalypse from the other side." He turned to look at the statue behind him. "The demon Acaltha. A living portal, sealed up millennia ago. Once I open it, it will suck this entire world into the depths of hell. Should be interesting, shouldn't it?"

"And just to satisfy your curiosity, you kidnapped my friends. You almost killed Xander. And you're going to rip out my heart." Again she slashed. Again, her foe slipped away from her, darted to the side. "My God. You disgust me."

"Well, maybe not yours. Depending on how much fun Drusilla has with Kendra, her's would work just as well. One Slayer's heart is pretty much like another."

He lunged. She brought the sword up. He backed off. Cat and mouse. That was the game. But Buffy knew that at any moment she would become the mouse.

Desperate, backed into a corner and facing down Drusilla, Kendra threw her stake at random. Drusilla dodged easily, and Kendra brought up her canteen of holy water. She ripped the top off and threw a splash of the water at Drusilla. The vampire screamed and fled, burns already starting to appear.

Spike moved in fast to replace her, his promise apparently forgotten at the sight of his love's pain, his face contorted with rage. _"You'll pay for that!"_

Kendra reacted quickly. It was a very full canteen, and Kendra hit him in the face with a respectable lump of holy water.

Giles was good. Buffy had never faced him while she was armed and he was not. Usually it was the other way around, but now she had a sword and he had his claws and fangs.

And he was still holding his own.

He had to keep his distance but he knew when to strike. He knew when to block, and he knew when to run. Buffy stabbed outwards, he stepped to the side and grabbed the blade. She saw his hand cut, but Giles twisted and wrenched the handle out of her hands. The sword spun through the air and clattered to the floor.

"Seems a bit more fair," said Giles, stepping in for a punch. It clipped Buffy across the head, and she saw stars and stumbled. Buffy moved in low, grabbing him around the waist and bringing her legs around to knock him over. He landed on one arm and sank his fist into her stomach. A cheap trick, but effective. Buffy choked and staggered back, clutching her stomach.

When Giles straightened up, he'd grabbed the sword.

Kendra was still backed into the wall. Her canteen was almost empty. Frantically she emptied the last of it on Drusilla, who's pale skin was almost completely black and dead. Spike moved in and knocked the container out of her hands. It spun through the air and narrowly avoided hitting Buffy.

Spike grabbed Kendra and pinned her to the wall. "You've been _way _too much trouble, newbie!" he shouted. "Dru…care to do the honors?"

"You _traitor_!" Kendra snarled.

He slammed her harder against the wall again, and said in her ear: "I ain't no traitor, Slayer. I did my bit. Blondie's friends are out safe. That's all I promised. Now I get my bit. Dru and I get to skip town. Hate to say it, new girl, but your life wasn't even part of the bargain. Dru?"

"I'd love to," Drusilla breathed. She took a step forward, and held up two fingers in front of Kendra's eyes. Kendra, pinned by Spike, accidentally locked eyes with the female vampire.

Her eyes, so dark and huge and suddenly so, so mesmerizing.

A slow smile spread across Drusilla's face. She moved her fingers through the air in a hypnotic rhythm, and Kendra's eyes followed her movement.

The other Slayer was well and truly caught.

"Be in me," Drusilla whispered. She reared to strike…

…and was hit from the side by a very angry werewolf that recognized an attacker who had beaten it senseless barely an hour ago. Oz was angry, Drusilla was unprepared. And Oz took full advantage of that.

Kendra scrambled to her feet, Mr. Pointy in hand. "Spike!" she yelled.

Spike whirled, and grabbed the stake before it could pierce his heart. He snapped it in half, then delivered Oz a ringing clout to the side of the head that sent the werewolf tumbling across the floor. Drusilla was unconscious and bleeding. He heaved her over his shoulder, and watched as Kendra and Oz readied themselves for a repeat attack

He made a break for the door.

"Spike, you traitor!" Kendra snarled, and rushed after him.

Spike shoved past Buffy, making her stumble. A hot, searing pain shot through the Slayer's stomach, and a numbness spread out from her belly.

When she looked down, she saw the sword sticking out of her stomach. Dazedly, she followed the length of the sword until she came eye-to-eye with her former Watcher.

With agonizing slowness, Giles extracted the weapon. He held it up, so she could see her blood gleaming on the steel.

"Too slow," he said. He turned away from her and gave the sword a flick. A few drops of blood landed on the statue of Acaltha.

The statue's eyes glowed. With a sound of someone exhaling for the first time in centuries, a hot red smoke emerged from its mouth. The smoke solidified, twisted…took the shape of an opening.

"Oh, look," said Giles with apparently fascination. "It looks like the blood was an acceptable substitute. That's usually the case, but with a spell so complex it's better to be precise..."

The injury was very painful. Buffy clamped a hand over it, but the blood continued to flow. Giles looked at her…and for a moment, there was something almost like pity in his gaze.

"You must be so tired," he whispered. "Believe me, I know how that feels."

Buffy smiled tiredly. "Yeah…" she whispered, sinking to her knees. "I guess you would…"

* * *

Spike tore across the driveway to his former boss's Citroen as Kendra fired crossbow bolts at him from the doorway. He ripped the door open, dumped Drusilla in the passenger's seat, and slung himself into the driver's seat. Bending over, he set to work hotwiring the vehicle. "I'd say this is the least you owe me, Watcher…"

Something big hit the side of the car, denting the door. Spike didn't even look up as Oz snarled and scratched at the window's, producing an ear-splitting noise. He found the right wires, and touched them together. The car gave an almighty lurch and shot forward. However, Oz continued to grip the door, his claws embedded in the metal.

"Give it up!" Spike snarled. Oz merely snarled back, and swatted the window open. Shards of glass rained on the two vampires. Spike pulled a hairpin turn out of the driveway and shot down the street, and the momentum was enough to dislodge his hanger-on. The werewolf hit the ground hard, rolling over and over.

Spike laughed as the car shot off into the night. "Free as a bird! So long, Sunnydale!"

* * *

Giles pulled out a handkerchief from his pocket and began to clean the sword. "No weapon…no friends…no hope. Take away that…and what's left?"

He chopped downwards. Buffy brought up her hands and caught the blade between them.

Her eyes were closed. She looked almost peaceful.

"Me," said the Slayer quietly. Just as Giles had done, she twisted her grip. The steel cut her hand, but the hilt came away and she caught it, readying her new weapon.

Buffy let out her breath slowly…then she came at the vampire in a whirling blur of fists and steel, adrenaline screaming through her veins and her mind a foggy, blank blur.

She backed him up against the statue and readied the sword that was still stained with her own blood. The blood of a Slayer.

The only way to stop the ritual was with the blood of the one who initiated it. The blood of the one who was standing before her.

The blood of her Watcher.

Her friend.

Her father.

"You lose," she said quietly, and plunged the sword home.

It pinned Giles to the statue. Acatla's eyes glowed, and so did Giles. He glowed, and began to dissolve into nothingness.

Just before he vanished, Buffy caught a glimpse of something familiar in his eyes.

Pride.

"Well done," said her Watcher, and was gone.

Buffy stood, staring at the spot where he'd been, as blood dripped from her wound and the portal closed. She stared at the spot for a very long time, and didn't even realize it when she fainted.

* * *

Yes, Spike is untrustworthy. The promise wasn't as binding as it was in Giles' case, and he had more of an opportunity to break it. Plus, Kendra hurt Dru. Spike does not stand for that.

The final scene wasn't as emotional as the one with Angel, but personally I think the emotional yuckiness was put on the table before the fight started.

And yes, Kendra survived. I have never successfully managed that before, but Kendra survived. It's all about the choices, baby. She killed Giles, but Kendra survived. Weird, huh?


	27. In the Arms of the Angel

Xander sat by Willow's bedside. She looked so delicate and fragile, hooked up to so much machinery as they tried to elevate her blood count and lift her out of shock. Cordelia had come in the paramedics, who'd brought her in with a gaping, bleeding wound in her stomach. According to Cordy, she'd become unresponsive about halfway through the ride, and nothing had been able to revive her.

Xander himself, finally allowed to sit up in bed, had seen them wheel her past. He'd started shouting at his own physicians, begging to be allowed to see her and threatening them when they'd refused.

Finally, after two hours of tortuous waiting while they verified that he could move, Cordelia had been allowed to wheel him in.

She'd descended into shock. He didn't know the details, but shock was apparently bad.

"Do you want some coffee?" asked Cordelia, her voice unusually soft.

"No. I don't want to leave her," said Xander quietly. "What if she wakes up?"

"I'll get it," offered his girlfriend.

He thanked her. She left, silent for once. Xander gripped one of Willow's hands in both of his, fighting the urge to squeeze them.

"Come on, Will. Look, you don't have a choice here. You got to wake up. I need you, Will. I mean, how am I going to pass trig, you know? And who am I going to call every night, and talk about everything we did all day? You're my best friend. You've always…"

He swallowed. They'd told him that if Willow woke up, everything would be okay. They could treat her properly. She could wake up at any time, but…the longer the wait, the less likely it became.

He took a deep breath, trying to steady himself.

"I love you," he whispered.

For a moment, there was nothing. No response from his beloved friend.

Then, a movement. A groan. Xander gasped, and Willow spoke blearily.

"…Oz?"

He froze, as Willow's eyes fluttered open. She looked at him groggily, then her gaze slid past him to stare over his shoulder.

Xander turned.

Oz was in the doorway, breathless and shaking. The werewolf hurried into the room and dropped down next to Willow, taking the hand that Xander quickly released.

"I'm here," he murmured. "I'd have been here sooner, but there was the matter of…" he gestured at himself, at his clothes. "Complete and total nakedness. Tends to put people off."

She smiled. "My head…feels big…is it?"

He kissed it. "No. It's head size."

Willow smiled dreamily at him, then returned her attention to Xander. "Is everybody else okay?"

Xander…shook his head.

"I don't know, Will. I was the first man down, remember."

"But…" Willow protested. "Buffy…Cordy…"

"Cordy's fine, thank you," said Cordelia, re-entering the room with a plastic cup of coffee that she pressed into Xander's hands. "Buffy and what's-her-face were still going at it with Giles, Spike, and Dru when I made a break for it."

"But Buffy…"

Cordelia shook her head, then she stared pointedly at Oz. "_You _were still there. Care to share, Fluffy?"

He grimaced. "Well…I attacked something. I don't know what. Then I was chasing…something. I think it was a car. The car threw me off, and I figured I should call it a night. I woke up behind my house, got changed, and decide to check in with Xander."

"I heard something about 'end of the world'. Again?" asked Cordelia.

Oz shrugged. "Well, the world obviously didn't end, cause…" this time he gestured outside the window. "Here it is."

Willow nodded. "…here it is…it's really pretty…"

They sat, talking and wondering and worrying, until the doctors came to break them up. Xander had to be tested. Willow had to be tested. Cordelia and Oz went to find news.

They didn't have to wait long. When they arrived in the waiting room, it was to find a gang of harassed looking paramedics, Kendra the Other Vampire Slayer bending over Buffy, who was strapped unmoving to a stretcher, and a harassed looking Wesley Wyndham-Pryce, talking in a rush to the technician.

"Her name is Buffy Anne Summers…no, I'm not a guardian, I'm a…friend. Yes, you saw me just last week…_yes_, she's friends with Xander Harris and Willow Rosenburg, although why that is the case I will never know…_yes_, we've all got a death wish, we're reckless fools, but would you please just search for the damn account? Its located in England, not Sweden!"

Oz and Cordelia leapt aside as the stretcher was wheeled past. Kendra watched it go forlornly.

Oz glanced over his shoulder, keeping the wounded Slayer in his sights until the stretcher turned the corner.

He bit his lip, then turned back to Kendra as Wesley continued to argue over the payment of the bill. "Hey! Kendra, wasn't it? We're in need of a play-by-play. What's the deal?"

* * *

Buffy found herself back in the desert.

But this time, she was not alone.

She lay in the sand, with her head on Angel's chest, as the sun beat down. He gently stroked the fine blonde strands, and she listened to the steady thump of his heart.

"I shouldn't be here," she murmured. "I mean…" she laid a hand against her stomach, still bleeding profusely. "Is this a good sign? Am I dead?"

"It's actually a very good sign," said Giles, who was sitting on a rock nearby and cleaning his glasses. "It's when it _stops _bleeding that you could be in trouble. But the fact that your spiritual form is operating in cohesion with your physical body proves that a link is still present."

Buffy stared blankly at him. Giles amended:

"You're still very much alive."

Buffy turned her head to smile at Angel. "So are you."

He smiled back. "I'd forgotten what it felt like."

She pushed herself up onto her elbows, as did he. They kissed, and Buffy felt at peace. Dead or alive, at least she was safe. With her lover and her Watcher, she was safe.

Finally, they separated. Buffy remained seated, Angel's arm around her shoulder.

She looked at Giles.

"I thought I sent you to hell?"

"You sent my body to hell. The demon inhabiting it was unlucky enough to be along for the ride. My soul, having departed, was luckily spared."

"So…this is the real you? The one who…"

"The one who died that night in the warehouse? Yes." He put his glasses back on, put a hand to his chest. "This is the very real me."

Buffy directed her next question to Angel. "Have you been here this entire time?"

He nodded, sadly. "Ever since I…we…"

"Wow."

"It…wasn't a whole lot of fun. I could tell some of what was going on back in Sunnydale, but…"

"We're no longer able to help," Giles finished. "It was…frustrating, to say the least."

"But I've seen you. Both of you."

"Dreams are…different," said Angel. "By the way, your subconscious? A very strange place. Stranger than Sunnydale."

She snuggled closer to him. "But that's why you love me, right?"

Another kiss. "That's why."

Buffy cast her gaze over the desert. "I…shouldn't be here. Xander, Willow, Mom…how do I get home?"

Giles shrugged. "Can't really help you there, I'm afraid. The way back is hidden to the two of us. But since you arrived, I can only assume there's a way to return." He looked at her worriedly. "You might want to find it soon, though."

Buffy...nodded. Dreamily, she got to her feet and stretched languidly. Like a compass, her mind knew which way to go. She just had to follow the big red needle.

But then she saw Giles and Angel, sitting comfortably and very clearly not coming.

"This is goodbye?" she asked hesitantly. "Forever?"

Angel got up and laid a hand on her shoulder. "Buffy, you don't belong here. Not yet. You belong…with them. With your friends. With your life."

"I know it gets hard sometimes," said Giles softly. "But trust me. A hard life spent to its fullest is better than one cut short."

Angel bent down and kissed her. Long and loving, they kissed. When they finally separated, a few of his tears fell onto her cheeks.

Despite her own tears, Buffy smiled.

"Promise me you'll be here when I come back?"

He smiled back. "Let it be a very long wait."

Another kiss, a chaste one on the forehead, and they parted. Buffy crossed over to Giles, and hugged him tightly.

"I'm sorry I got you killed," she mumbled.

He hesitated…then hugged her back. "Sorry I tried to kill you."

"Life hasn't been easy without you around."

"You've done well. And I'm sure you will continue to keep doing well. You are, in all honesty, one of the most remarkable people I've ever met."

She smiled at him, then looked over towards her waiting friends.

"I have a lot of help."

Another hug, then they parted. Buffy took a deep breath, and set one foot on the bridge.

"Oh! One more thing!"

She turned, gripping the rope lining of the bridge, and tilted her head at Giles.

"Yeah?"

"My journal!" he said hurriedly. "My Watcher's journal. Just…flip through it, when you get a moment. There's some information in there you'll probably need to know."

She smiled. "That was a pretty big taboo when you were alive, you know."

He raised his eyebrows. "Well, I'm not alive anymore. So it's not. Go."

She nodded, waved at them. "See you around."

Then she turned around, and walked into light.

_Beep...beep...beep..._

* * *

Buffy awoke.

Beep…beep…beep…

The room around her was blurred and fuzzy. The light swam and wavered.

And she was alone. No mom. No friends. No Watcher. All alone.

"I think…" she muttered, to the room for lack of company, her tongue feeling heavy. "I think…I'm kinda…drrruggged."

She already felt herself slipping off to sleep.

For the first time in months, she didn't dream.


	28. It's All Good

* * *

When Buffy awoke a few hours later, it was to find that she was no longer alone.

Kendra smiled at her as she awoke. "Good morning, Buffy."

Buffy smiled back. "Morning, Kendra. Good…good to see you."

She reached out a hand hooked up to more tubes than a computer motherboard. Kendra squeezed it.

"Where is everybody?"

Her partner looked away. "I am…not supposed to tell you."

Buffy frowned. "…why?"

"Wesley said…"

"_Screw _what Wesley said!"

"But…"

"Kendra…"

"But…"

"Please?"

* * *

It had been an incredibly vicious argument, and as Xander and Willow watched their parents stalk from the room they knew they hadn't won the war, just scraped a victory in a minor battle.

They might not have even gotten that far, if it hadn't been for the added reinforcements of Oz on Willow's side and Cordelia on Xander's.

Both parents had taken different tactics. Sheila Rosenburg had appealed to her daughter's good sense, saying that if Willow had any hope for her future she would stop covering up for her mishaps and come clean. She hadn't shouted, but she had acted supremely disappointed and sad and Willow could never stand it when her mother acted that way.

Fortunately, Oz had no such issues.

Xander's father, on the other hand, _had _shouted. He had threatened Xander with everything in the book, some of which Xander knew were illegal in half the United States. He had ranted and raved until Xander…Xander, who had faced off against vampires and demons and Drusilla…had found himself cowering.

Fortunately, Cordelia had come to his rescue. Advancing on his father in full Cordy-glory, she had backed him against the wall calling him every name in her impressive repertoire, shaking her finger under his nose and looking fearsome all the while, even if she now had a plaster cast on her nose. She had ended her own tirade with a threat Xander knew perfectly well could be backed up:

"Let me tell you, you pot-bellied boozed-up louse! My father happens to be the second richest person in this one-horse town, and if I _ever _catch you threatening my boyfriend, I will make sure you never get a job for the rest of your filthy life!"

There was only time for a few rounds of congratulations, however, before Buffy was wheeled in on a wheelchair by Kendra.

The Vampire Slayer looked more than a little frightened.

"Guys…" she whispered. "I…"

Willow beamed. "Morning, Buffy!"

Xander nodded. "Mornin', Buff. How's the stomach?"

"Um…it's good…Slayer healing and all…but…"

Willow nodded. "That's good. They say I should be able to eat stuff by mouth pretty soon without it falling out of my stomach."

"And I'll still be able to fulfill my lifelong dream of running a marathon," said Xander, with barely detectable sarcasm. "I'll be out in two days."

"I'll be out in four," added Willow.

Now Buffy was looking flustered as Xander and Willow methodically diverted the conversation away from the argument. "I should be fine by day after tomorrow, but…"

Willow nodded. "That's good. That's very good. Glad to hear it, Buffy."

Buffy prepared once more to argue…then she saw the looks on the faces of her friends.

"Resolve face," Willow added.

"You can't stop the resolve face," said Xander solemnly.

Buffy let it die.

Instead, she smiled.

"Yeah. It's all good."

* * *

Wesley shivered as he entered the mansion. The air was cold and dead. Just like its inhabitants had been.

There stood Acathla, in the center of the room. A sword still protruded from its stone stomach. The braziers set to undo the protection spell had been knocked to the floor, their contents scattered over the floor.

Slowly, carefully, Wesley walked over to the statue.

The sigils inscribed on it that marked the presence of the spell still held, and the sword was embedded deeply. He also fancied that he could see something…_missing _about the statue. Before Buffy had stabbed it, it had held a sort of menace, its stone gaze appearing to follow you as you went.

Now, it was a hunk of rock, dead and harmless.

He smiled, feeling braver.

The room that had held Willow, Cordelia, and Oz he barely poked his head into. The room was bare, and it _stank_. Not only that, but he could see the clearly evident bloodstain in one corner. Wesley quickly backed out, swallowing bile.

Besides, the place where the prisoners had been held was not what had drawn him here.

He eventually found the room he sought. It looked rather like the office in the library, the one he'd known Buffy would eviscerate him for redecorating.

A few bookshelves, but the need for secrecy had meant that most of the precious volumes Giles had stolen or smuggled out of the library had had to be packed in wooden boxes. A few still lay open on the table, with pages of scribbled notes around them.

Most of the texts seemed to be about breaking the spell, freeing Achathla, and the various hell dimensions. Most of the notes were mathematical equations, or tactical notations.

One particular book, small and battered, had been set off to the side. Sitting on top of it was a dusty, spun glass sphere.

Almost without thinking, Wesley reached for it. A pearly gray smoke swirled beneath its surface. It was a truly hypnotic, enchanting sight…he wondered what it could be…

Wesley brushed the sphere aside, going for the book.

_Pain. Fear. Running, running, running forever. No way out, no escape, oh god please help me, please help me Rupert…can't die here, not here, please not here, not now…no chance to apologize, no chance to repent…please save me…don't want to come back, want to stay, so peaceful…let me go let me go let me go please let me go, Rupert let me go…_

Without thinking, just wanting the flood of pain to stop, Wesley hurled the sphere at the wall where it shattered.

The pearly substance erupted free, billowing and boiling.

Then, it faded.

Wesley exhaled.

Then, he went for his target. Picking up the battered book that had been held under the paperweight, he flipped open the front cover.

The words scrawled in pen on the first page read:

_Journal of Rupert Giles, Watcher to the Slayer Buffy Anne Summers_

_Buffy, if you ever read this you will be deeply sorry_

After all, if he was to be Buffy's new Watcher, Wesley supposed he ought to know about his predecessor.

And perhaps there would be something in there to let the girl know what was to happen next.

Wesley tucked the book into his coat pocket, and left the office almost as he'd found it. After all, Buffy would probably eviscerate him for rearranging.

* * *

Angel had long ago left him, big him goodbye and farewell and left him for whatever afterlife he was due for. Angel's destination had taken him to another part of the desert entirely, but he'd left seemingly content with what awaited him.

Giles had no such destination .he did not know where to go, did not know if or where he was expected.

So, he simply walked. Walked, his shoes kicking up the sand of the vast, endless desert.

Somehow, he'd found a book. It had just been laying beside him after he'd decided to move on. Because he knew there was nothing here that could harm him anymore, Giles read as he walked.

Somewhere, there was a place for him. Some day, he would reach the end of the sand.

Until then, he was content to walk, even if he walked alone. It was a very interesting book.

He didn't know if he'd been walking for several hours, several days, or several years before he felt the touch on his arm. He stopped dead, turned to look…and promptly dropped the book from suddenly nerveless fingers as the one beside him gave him a sly smile.

"Hey there, England," said Jennifer Calendar, taking his arm in hers'. "Going my way?"


	29. Epilogue: Full of Grace

Okay...I know I said I'd have another chapter before the grand(ish) finale, but a lot of people seemed to think Chapter 28 was the end. So, I'm assuming that that was a good place to stop, and...I'm stopping. I'm getting good reviews, I sure don't wanna push my luck! If you want, I can put in another chapter detailing what else went on at the hospital; it wasn't that interesting.

Until then, please enjoy the epilogue. And thanks for reading.

(By the way, in case you're wondering, the info Giles wanted Buffy to find was an entry he'd made about the upcoming Cruciamentum. Wesley and Traverse are gonna get a nasty surprise.)

* * *

The bus radio was playing a slow, mournful tune that perfectly fit the day. It was a cloudy, gray day. It would probably rain, soon. Buffy, Willow, Xander, Oz, and Cordelia all sat near to each other in the old, beat-up Greyhound Bus as it rumbled on its way towards Los Angeles.

"_The winter here's cold, and bitter._

_It's chilled us to the bone._

_We haven't seen the sun for weeks._

_Too long, too far from home."_

"What are you going to tell your Mom, Buffy?" asked Willow.

Her mother had never come to the hospital. Never visited. Never called. Buffy smiled blandly. "If she reads the note, that's what I tell her. What are you going to tell your's, Will?"

Willow smiled just as blandly back at her. "I just told her I'd keep up on my school work. She told me not to do any drugs. I think she sorta blocked out the argument at the hospital. She's in mom-denial."

"Mine don't give a damn," said Xander simply, staring out the window. "I told 'em I wouldn't get arrested and I'd come back alive."

"I told mine I was going on a college trip," said Cordelia. "Mom was on the phone and wouldn't have heard if a meteor had hit the house, so I'm good."

"And mine are out of town anyway," said Oz.

"_I feel just like I'm sinking_

_And I claw for solid ground._

_I'm pulled down by the undertow._

_Never thought I could feel so low."_

"But what about you, Buffy?" asked Willow.

Buffy shrugged, staring out at the rolling landscape. "No clue. My Dad's in L.A. Maybe he can back me up. Or take me in."

"Don't say that, Buffy," said Willow earnestly. "She's your mom. You've just gotta give her some time to understand."

"Of course, the fact that you didn't even bother to tell her where you're going might give her a heart attack," said Cordelia dryly. "Which would render the entire problem moot."

"Shut up, Cordy," said Xander idly.

"Kendra can explain things to Mom. Kendra can look after Sunnydale, too. It's a plus of having an extra Slayer on the rota. I left most of my weapons, and Giles', and all of his books," said Buffy confidently.

"_Oh darkness I feel like letting go._

_If all of the strength and all of the courage  
__  
Come and lift me from this place_

I know I could love you much better than this."

"Los Angeles," Buffy murmured. "City of a million souls. It's where it all started for me. The Slaying. The fighting. The tough stuff."

"Good a place as any to start looking," said Oz.

"For two evil bloodsucking vampires," said Xander.

Buffy smiled fondly at her friends. "Yeah…but I think with me…with us…they bit off _way _more than they could chew."

"_Full of grace…_

_Full of grace…_

My love…"

"You know…" said Cordelia musingly. "I wonder if you'll get a new Watcher. I mean, whoever runs this whole show doesn't seem too keen on a Slayer wandering around without someone nagging her."

"That's true," Xander said.

Buffy shrugged. "I probably will get a new Watcher someday."

"And…?" asked Willow tentatively.

"And you know what? I don't need him."

Buffy stared hard at her friends. "I've done all that I did the last few months without a Watcher. I don't need another one. I don't _want _another one. I don't want to see another one die. But if the Council insists…" She grinned. "I'll just have to do a little re-training, now won't I?"

Xander nodded. "Right. Teach him how to do things the Scooby-way."

"We have a way?" asked Cordelia.

"Course we do," said Oz.

"And it's a good way," added Willow.

"_So it's better this way, I said_

_Having seen this place before_

_Where everything we said and did_

_Hurts us all the more._

_It's just that we stayed, too long_

_In the same old sickly skin."_

"Still got a long way to go," said Oz.

"But we'll get there," said Buffy confidently.

"And what do we do _when _we get there?" asked Cordelia "I mean…we'll need hotel rooms, food, clothes…"

"We'll decide once we get there," said Buffy confidently. "We'll work it out."

"_I'm pulled down by the undertow. _

_I never thought I could feel so low._

_Oh darkness I feel like letting go."_

They were silent for a while, until the song started its final, sad verse. Willow hesitantly sang with it. Then Oz, slipping an arm around her shoulder, joined in. Xander followed, and Cordelia rather ruined the effect by joining the growing chorus.

But Buffy didn't care. She sang with her friends, even as most of the bus turned to stare at them. Stare at the five teenagers, clutching suitcases on a bus to L.A.

"_If all of the strength_

_and all of the courage_

_come and lift me from this place_

_I know I could love you much better than this…_

_Full of grace…_

_Full of grace…_

_My love."_

_We are now leaving Sunnydale, California._

_But we'll be back soon._

* * *

...The end. Um...

I would like to thank all my reviewers. I would like to give them all an Oscar, but that's kinda hard to do over the Internet. I mean, being reviewed every chapter was huge motivation. Sorry I wasn't as consistent as I wanted, but school is killing me.

I might re-do invidual episodes along this line, but apart from that...no. This story, as good as it turned out, was exhausting to write.

So, thank you for reviewing. Thanks for reading. Thank you for not hating me for killing off both Giles _and _Angel. Hope you enjoyed yourselves.

--Hickumu


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